At Least We're Going Down Together
by redhead414
Summary: Five years after the war, the Ministry of Magic decides that incentives are needed to boost marriages and increase the population in Wizarding Britain due to dwindling number of marriages and babies, and the Minister asks Draco and Hermione to be the faces of the newly announced incentives to prevent the plan from becoming a law. Rated T for language/suggestive themes.
1. Chapter 1

_**I posted some of this on my tumblr page tonight. I know a lot of you want me to work on Show Me What I'm Looking For - and I know it's so long overdue it's obscene - but I just can't write that story right now. I've tried and trashed every draft for Chapter 3, and I refuse to publish something I can't tolerate to read. I don't want to post garbage. **_

**I got the idea for this story while listening to the song "Under Pressure" while stuck in traffic today...and I'm hoping that this helps snap me out of my writers block funk with SMWILF** - _**because I don't like that it isn't finished any more than you do. I just...I have it in my head how I want it to end, but I can't figure out the middle parts. I've been having a rough couple of months in the fanfiction world, and I have no problem using that as my excuse. **_

_**Hopefully you'll enjoy this take on a 'marriage fic' in the meantime...**_

* * *

"Ah, Hermione, I'm glad you got my message."

Hermione smiled at the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and took at seat across from his desk at his instructive nod. Her ankles crossed and legs properly poised together, just as she was taught to do during her many summers of cotillion lessons, she placed her hands properly in her lap and gave her boss her complete and undivided attention. "You wished to speak to me, Sir?"

Kingsley gave his best employee a smile and shook his head. "Always so formal, Hermione."

"We are in your office, Sir," Hermione added. "The office itself asks for the same sort of deserving respect as the man sitting inside it."

"So if you were sitting across from former Minister Fudge -"

"With all due respect, Minister Shaklebolt," Hermione interrupted, "but if Minister Fudge was where you are, I would be working as far away from the Ministry as possible."

Kingsley laughed as he picked up a folder from his desk and opened it, flipping through the contents. "Fair enough, Hermione." He pulled out a few pieces of parchment and shut the folder, handing Hermione the documents in hand. "I've called you in here because after various meetings and several brainstorming sessions, I'm regretfully about to announce a new Ministry lead initiative."

Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the documents before her, muscles in her shoulders tensing as her eyes glossed over phrases such as _dwindling population of witches and wizards _and_ marriage incentives. _"Sir," she said carefully as she continued to read. "Is the Ministry considering instating a marriage law? Because to do so would be completely immoral, and totally stepping over boundaries and a serious invasion -"

"It's not a marriage law," Kingsley interjected. "But facts are facts, and you more than anyone understand what the numbers on the parchment there are saying. The war five years ago took a serious toll on our population, and our world is just starting to rebound back from the devastation. History usually shows that wars somehow create trends in overpopulation once it ends, but this war was different."

"Different how, Sir?"

"See for yourself," Kingsley said with a defeated sigh. "Marriages are at an all time low, the birth rates over the past five years are hinting at Hogwarts seeing some of it's smallest classes in the school's history, and it is the belief of Ministry Elders that if we do not do something soon, our world will have a hard time surviving. People will flee to other parts of Europe and Britain will lose its wizarding community." He dragged a tired and apologetic hand over his face as he watched Hermione flip through the rest of the paperwork.

Once she was done shuffling through the parchment, Hermione looked up at the Minister with a demure disposition. "When do you intend to make this announcement?"

"A week from today," Kingsley replied. "We're hoping that the financial incentives in pursuing a marriage and then subsequent children will encourage those who may have been strapped due to the devastation from the war to take the next step. We also hope that the parole incentives will encourage those Purebloods who were on the losing side of the war will encourage those that are not in a relationship to look past blood status and everything else we fought to be free from and begin relationships with their fellow witch or wizard because at the end of the day - we're all witches and wizards no matter where our magic comes from - and it's up to us to save us from ourselves."

Hermione nodded, understanding where Kingsley was coming from, and feeling compassion for the unfortunate position he was about to put himself in. "Sir, might I ask why you chose to discuss this with me first?"

With a heavy sigh, Kingsley sat forward, leaning on his desk and he looked Hermione right in the eye. "I need an example."

"Excuse me?"

"An example," he repeated. "This is never going to work if the public doesn't see some sort of buy-in from members of our community that carry influence."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Sir, if you're insinuating that I have some sort of influence in this community, you're barking. I hardly have any sort of influence over anything."

Kingsley shook his head. "You know that isn't true, Hermione. You're one of the most powerful witches or wizards this community has ever seen since Albus Dumbledore himself. You've already been labeled as the brightest witch of your age. Many people in this community look up to you and how you helped defeat Voldemort."

"But I didn't…Harry defeated him, Sir. You know that. I didn't do anything."

"You did plenty - and everyone knows it," Kingsley argued. "Besides, as much as I would have loved to use Harry as an example, he and Ginny are already married, as is Ron." Sighing again, he looked at Hermione rather regretfully. "I need high profile faces."

"Faces?" Hermione questioned, her voice squeaking slightly.

"If he agrees, and I have a hunch that he will, I'd like to have you and Draco Malfoy be the first pair to represent this program."

Hermione could hardly contain the laugh that fell from her lips. "With all due respect, again Sir, you're barking mad. What in the name of Merlin makes you think that Draco Malfoy would _ever agree_ to participating in a program where he's required to marry someone that he has always believed to be beneath him in every way possible?"

Kingsley folded his hands together and plainly stared at Hermione. "He wants his wand back, Hermione."

"Unfortunately, that reason alone isn't enough for me to even contemplate going along with this ridiculous plan."

"Hermione, you know I wouldn't be asking if I thought for a second that your participation would have zero effect on the implementation of this plan," he stated with grave seriousness. "Our community needs this to happen."

"This is not going to work, Kingsley."

"So now I'm Kingsley?" he teased.

She scowled. "You are when you're asking me to tether my general existence to a man who loathes my very existence."

"He's not that bad now."

"That's like saying that spattergroit is only kind of contagious - which is a blatant lie. It's either contagious or it isn't. Draco Malfoy is either a git or a decent human being, and I'm tossing my galleons into the git basket."

* * *

Draco sat in the living room of Malfoy Manor, reading the letter addressed to him from Minister Shaklebolt. He'd read it nearly a thousand times, and was still baffled at what the Minister was asking him to do. It'd been a little over five years since the end of the war, and he had one more year left on his probation sentence before he was able to use magic outside of his home again. His wand had been mended to only work within the boundaries of the Manor, and to execute a small concoction of spells. He was hardly able to brew potions - his favorite thing to do - and the past five years had dragged on incredibly slow. He felt like a pariah in public, and would only go out when his mother made him accompany her. His father refused to be seen outside of the Manor. His magic had been stripped entirely for six years, and Draco could see that the sentence had made his father feel inept and unworthy of his family.

"Draco? Draco darling? Dinner will be ready shortly."

His mother's voice snapped him from his thoughts, the letter - now a bit wrinkled - still clutched between his fingertips. "Of course, Mother," he dutifully replied. "I'll be in the dining room shortly."

He expected his mother to retreat, to leave him in peace so that he could read this blasted letter - this piece of mockery - at least ten more times before he actually stood up for dinner but instead felt his mother sit down next to him on the ornate sofa and place a caring hand on his shoulder. "Draco, you've been very quiet today. Is something a matter?"

Draco folded the letter once over, the words facing downward as he looked at his mother with a feeble smile. "Everything's fine, Mother. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Narcissa gave her son a look. "You've never had a poker face, Son."

"A poker face?"

"It's a Muggle phrase. Severus taught it to me," she explained. "It means you can't say nothing's wrong when your face says something else entirely." Narcissa brushed a hand over his blond locks in desperate need of a trim and sighed. "Tell me what's wrong, Darling. I can tell you've been stewing over something all day."

Draco shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mother."

"Draco, I'm insisting that you tell me what is the matter," Narcissa demanded in her no-nonsense tone. "I am your mother, and it's bad enough to have your father brooding around this house incessantly. I will not have both of you in this state at dinner. I can only handle one of you at a time, and unfortunately for you - I can demand more of you than I can of your father."

Knowing he was going to be on the losing end of his mother's stare, he relinquished the letter in his hands and leaned back into the sofa, burying the heels of his hands into his eyes as his mother read the letter aloud.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_It is becoming ever apparent in the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War that extreme measures must be taken in order to preserve our wizarding culture here in Britain. It is no secret that the war carried away a large amount of our citizens, and the Ministry of Magic has decided that it is in the best interest of our community that we begin to incentivize marriages, as well as bearing children to carry on our storied legacy. If we do not conform to such measures, it is the belief of the Ministry that our British wizarding community will eventually dwindle and move away to other wizarding villages in Europe. _

_We understand that these incentives will cause outrage to some, but it is imperative that we create buy-in within the community to see that we are taking these measures seriously. We do not want this to become another failed Ministry initiative, as our offices have done their very best to evolve from their archaic ways of before. We want to be a Ministry that fully supports the people it represents, but this requires us to ensure that there is a future to represent. _

_As the Minister of Magic, I am willing to commute your sentence and remove all magical restrictions placed upon you due to your participation in the Second Wizarding War if you agree to participate. We need a recognizable pair - a pair that will defy the naysayers of this plan - and it is the Ministry's hope that our plan will be most successful if you are paired with Hermione J. Granger. You have until tomorrow evening at six o'clock to report to the Ministry of Magic to accept this offer. _

_Sincerely,_

_Kingsley Shaklebolt, Minister of Magic_

Narcissa was unsure of what to make of this letter. Marriage laws were the definition of archaic, but she noticed the lack of the word 'law' and use of the word 'incentive.' Folding the letter up neatly against its original creases, she placed the letter on the coffee table in front of them and stared at her son. "Well?"

"Well what?" he asked, his palms still buried deep into his closed eyes.

"You could do worse."

"You're right Mother. I could have been paired with a bloody hippogriff."

Narcissa leaned over and gave her son a swift smack upside the head. "Draco Lucius Malfoy! I did not raise you to speak that way about a lady!"

Draco rubbed the offended spot on the back of his head while blinking his eyes back into focus. "We aren't talking about a _lady_, Mum. We are talking about Hermione Granger. The bane of my existence. The reason Father used to scold me at the end of every term, because she somehow bested me in every class - and now they want me to _marry_ her! They want a Malfoy to marry a…a…Muggleborn witch! Father won't stand for it!"

Narcissa rolled her eyes and stood up from the couch. "If you think your father is in any position to defy anything, you're much more delusional than I gave you credit for." Smoothing out the front of her robes, she stared at her son who stared at the letter on the coffee table as if were waiting to attack. "The Minister of Magic is being gracious in giving you an opportunity to redeem your reputation and thus, the Malfoy name in general. You would be an idiot to refuse his proposal."

He could hardly suppress his groan, but did so to keep from getting hit…again. "Mother, how am I supposed to be in a relationship with someone that I have _nothing_ in common with? How can the Minister expect that Granger and I would be able to stand in the same room with one another without cursing the life out of each other?"

"Your father and I had an arranged marriage, and while it was rocky the first couple of years, we eventually learned to love each other."

"No offense, Mother, but I don't want to have to learn how to love someone."

"Loving someone is the easiest thing in the world to do," Narcissa responded as she moved to exit the room. "You just have to let go of what you can't change and appreciate the other person for what they bring to your life. It's what your father and I had to do."

"And you just said that took years," Draco argued.

"We had different circumstances," Narcissa countered. "You should consider the Minister's offer, Draco."

"I'd rather rot in Azkaban."

"Draco, you and I both know you wouldn't last two minutes in Azkaban," Narcissa drawled as she left for dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

**_I'm so excited about everyone's enthusiasm for this story. I know the marriage fic theme is like beating a dead horse, but several have asked me to do it and I always said I wouldn't unless I got an idea to make it different. Hopefully I'm achieving my self imposed guideline._**

* * *

Hermione told her parents about the Ministry's request the following morning. Kingsley gave her the day off to mull over her decision, and at her request, made a promise not to tell Harry or Ron about what he asked of her. She knew the two of them would go mental at the thought of her having to figure out how to be in a relationship with Draco and their reactions would only make everything worse.

As she stirred her tea, watching the two sugar cubes dissolve in the circular current, Hermione managed to avoid the looks of shock on both her parents face, and made a feeble attempt to make a joke. "You did say the other day you wanted grandchildren."

"I'm not sure I said I wanted grandchildren by way of force," Jean replied, still trying to wrap her head around the story her daughter just gave her. "How could…I mean…given everything you've done for the Ministry, how could they even _think_ they could ask even _more_ of you?"

Oddly enough, Hermione had the same thought in the midst of her bubble filled bath, trying to sort everything out. "Apparently, they had no trouble with it," was her simple reply. She looked up at her father, trying to read his stoic look. She loved her mother and couldn't live without her, but it was her father's support – or lack thereof – that would make or break this entire ordeal for her. "Just tell me what you're thinking," she pleaded.

Richard Granger leaned back in his kitchen chair and took a sip of his coffee. "This isn't what I wanted for you. When your mother and I…when we had you…this wasn't the future we had planned – and I'm not talking about your magic. You're magic is what makes you special."

Hermione smiled and nodded, looking down as she continued to blindly stir her tea. "My magic has also caused chaos."

"You're right," Richard agreed. "It has definitely caused a fair bit of chaos and upheaval."

Frowning, Hermione sighed and began to pick at her fingernails. "I don't know how I say no to the Minister."

"He doesn't have any right to control your life – or anyone else's for that matter," Jean stated. "And I don't care who he is."

"But if this doesn't work, this will turn into a mandatory law for everyone!" Hermione exclaimed. "The Minister wants to avoid that at all costs, which is why he's calling it an incentive program, though I'm having a hard time finding where the incentives are for me at the moment."

Richard took another sip of his coffee. "Are you talking like, financial incentives?"

"Among other things," Hermione replied. "I mean, I guess it's all financial in a sense. Housing for couples who can't afford a house big enough to hold children, rewards given to couples who decide to marry within a certain time period after the announcement is made, rewards given to couples who then have babies within a certain time frame. The Ministry believes that the financial benefits will have the wizarding community jumping at the opportunity."

Jean and Richard exchanged worrisome looks. "Hermione," Jean began to speak. "Is…your magical world…are they really that destitute?"

Hermione nodded. "A lot of them are, yes. Some of them that are married might not have enough to support children. The war…a lot of people are still rebuilding and putting their lives back together. A lot of people died."

"Because if this is about money for you –"

"It isn't," Hermione reassured her father. "I'm more than well off, believe me. The Minister needs a pair to show everyone else that they believe in what the Ministry is trying to do, and that it is being done for the good of society instead of it being some sort of underhanded, I don't know what really…the Ministry just doesn't have a good reputation when it comes to implementing policies that affect the people." She pushed her tea away and looked her parents in the eye; unsure of whom she was trying to convince at this point, herself or her parents. "The Minister wants to show everyone that this is for the good of our society as a whole, and he believes that Draco and I can have that sort of affect."

Richard cut into his coffee cake with a fork, stabbing a piece and pointing it right at his daughter. "And what, Hermione Jean, do you believe?"

Hermione shrugged as her father went on to eat his piece of cake. "I believe in the theory of it. I saw numbers and figures and it makes sense."

"And the reality of it?" Jean asked.

"Well, if you start off with the fact that Draco and I have never been friends, nor have we even seen or spoken to each other since his parents whisked him away before Harry was able to kill Voldemort…I don't know, Mum. I don't know."

"But you're willing to risk your happiness for the sake of everyone else?" Jean pressed on.

"That world is the only place I've ever felt normal. Even if people like the Malfoys didn't accept me for my abilities or found my place in the world beneath them – I still belonged," Hermione said with little emotion in her voice. "I'm not just a witch, either. I'm an extraordinary witch, and it's taken me a long time to come to grips with that…and even if I don't want to be an example…I _am_ an example. Every day."

Jean sighed, and Richard took his wife's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Obviously we can't tell you what to do," she said to her daughter. "But your father and I will do our best to support you in whatever way we can."

"Your mum's right, Hermione," Richard agreed. "And expect me to have a stern talk with this Draco Malfoy character when we meet. I have a few choice words to exchange with him regarding you."

Hermione's cheeks blushed as she shook her head. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Dad."

"You're my daughter, Hermione. My only daughter – believe me when I say it will be _more_ than necessary."

* * *

Draco walked into his father's study after lunch, bringing him his afternoon tea. His father spent most of his time in the study after the war ended. Sometimes he would be reading books, other times he would be sleeping upright in his chair. He knew his father didn't sleep well, and that his mother begged him to take a potion for his restlessness and nightmares. But Lucius refused every time.

"Father," he said quietly in case Lucius was napping, a light rap on the solid oak door as he peered inside. "Father I've brought your tea." Draco walked into the study and saw his father sitting, his chair moved so that he could stare out of the large bay window that looked out and over the grounds. He carefully set the teacup and saucer on the small table where his father's chair usually sat and moved it so that it was sitting next to his father.

"Your mother told me about the Ministry's request," Lucius's deep voice quietly spoke as he stared out the window.

Draco swallowed hard, unsure of his father's reaction. He stood out of his father's line of sight, using the bookcase behind him to keep him upright as he leaned into it, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black trousers. "I wasn't sure if Mother would tell you."

"Your mother tells me everything," Lucius slowly replied. "Even if I don't care to hear it." Lucius picked up his teacup and saucer and took a sip as he stared out the window. "This is a horrible idea, Draco."

"I can't say I'm a fan of it, Father, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Tell the Ministry they can find some other poor lackey of theirs to marry that insufferable Mudblood," Lucius replied, his voice even and unwavering.

"You can't call them that anymore," Draco informed is father. "It's illegal, and if you say it in front of Granger – a Ministry employee – she'll have you tossed into Azkaban quicker than you can blink."

"If you choose to go along with this plan and bring her into this house, I'd rather be in Azkaban," Lucius retorted as he took another sip.

Draco laughed to himself, remembering what he told his mother the night before, knowing his mother's remarks would easily apply to his father. "Mother thinks I should do it," he said after a few moments of silence. "That this might put our family back in the good graces of, well, everyone."

Lucius scowled. "There are plenty of pureblooded wizards you could marry and have children with. Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass – all of those fine, well-bred ladies are more than suitable to carry on the Malfoy name."

Draco shook his head, despite his father not able to see him. "Pansy Parkinson is the most annoying girl on the planet. All she does is whine – about everything. She will make this entire house miserable. As for the Greengrass girls, I can't stand Daphne but Astoria…she'd be alright. But I doubt the Minister would go for it. It would defeat the purpose of what he's trying to do. At least that's what he'll probably tell me." He'd actually already thought of Astoria last night while he lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Daphne was like Pansy, always complaining, even if she had everything. Her sister though, she was much more quiet and reserved, much like his mother. He could have been coerced into marrying a girl like Astoria.

He dragged a hand over his face and stifled his sigh. "They'll give me my wand back if I do this. The Ministry will end my sentence, and I'll be able to go back to making potions again, and just being able to use magic in general."

"That Granger girl isn't worth an expedited sentence."

"At least Granger is smart," Draco quipped. "They could have paired me up with a halfwit."

"You can control halfwits. I may not know that girl well, but she does not seem to be manageable in the slightest. Your mother – she was manageable."

Draco walked over to his father, glaring as he spoke. "Are you calling my mother a halfwit?"

"Not at all," Lucius replied. "She was brought up properly, and knew when to speak and when to stay silent."

He rolled his eyes and turned on a heel. "I want my wand back, Father. I want to be able to _do something_ other than mope about this bloody house! It's all I've done since the end of the war and I'm tired of it! I want to _do_ something!"

Lucius gave his son a curt shake of the head. "You are a _Malfoy_, You don't need to do _anything_ but ensure that our _Pureblood lines_ continue."

Draco defiantly swung his head back and forth. "You might be content to wallow here forever, Father, but I cannot do it. And if that means I have to marry that bushy haired, pain my ass, then let that be my penance in life for not being strong enough to tell you _no_ all those years ago."

He stormed out of his father's study and blasted through the halls, his footsteps echoing against the hard wood floors with each step. He stomped down the steps, scaring a house elf as he passed, and threw open the French doors that led to his mother's gardens. He grasped his hair tightly as she squeezed his eyes shut, his head tilted towards the bright summer sun. He thought about shouting at the top of his lungs, but was terrified to hear the echo. Instead, he crouched down, leaning forward against his knees and let out a strangled growl as he released his hands from his hair.

Draco Malfoy had no desire to marry Hermione Granger. None. The sheer thought of being married to her for the rest of his life was enough to drive him completely mental. But being her husband couldn't possibly compare to the current hell he'd been trapped within from the moment he was forced to brand his arm with the Dark Mark. The mark itself was more like a faded stain anymore as the years went on, but just because the mark itself was fading didn't make the memories any less real, or his choices any less horrific.

He wasn't sure how long he stood outside, but eventually he made his way back into the Manor. "Tippi!" he shouted, bellowing for his elf. "Tippi!"

"Tippi is here, Sir!" the tiny elf squeaked, appearing before him in between the shouts of his name. "What can Tippi do for you?"

"I need you to apparate me to the Ministry," Draco said.

Tippi frowned. "I thought Master said that Master would not need to go to the Ministry until later."

"I need to go now."

"Of course, Master."

With a grab of Draco's hand, Tippi had them out of the Manor and inside the Ministry in a blink.

* * *

"Miss Granger! I thought you had the day off!"

Hermione gave her flighty secretary, Estelle, a look of disapproval as she haphazardly tried to collect herself and tuck away her non-related work hobbies. It was clear by the way she was trying to stack things on her desk that she was trying to appear as if she'd been working all day when in reality she was probably doing nothing but reading trashy magazines. "Yes, well, I have a meeting at six o'clock and I thought I'd come in early and see what I missed." She grabbed a stack of Ministry files off of Estelle's desk that were in her inbox and trotted down to her office.

"Should I let people know you're here?"

"If they ask, I guess, but there's no need to publicize it," Hermione called out to her as she walked into her office, using her hip to push open the door. Shutting the door with a kick of her high heel, she moved through her pristinely organized office and placed the files on her desk and sat down in her leather chair. She was in a causal summer dress, red with cream-colored pin stripes, with a matching cream-colored cardigan to cover her shoulders so that she wouldn't be seen wearing only a strapless dress to work. She wanted to have some sense of decorum, even if she wasn't technically working.

She was able to get lost in her work for about a half hour or so, before her brain began to override her focus. She couldn't believe she was going to tell Kingsley that if Draco was in, than so was she. Or, she could believe that she was going to tell Kingsley yes, but couldn't believe that she came to the decision so easy. Her parents were right - the Ministry had no right to expect anything more out of her, considering everything she'd already done for the good of the wizarding world. Despite what Hermione had already sacrificed, she knew that this world was where she belonged. She would always be a Muggle, and do certain things the Muggle way, but she was also a witch, and if this…cockamamie plan of the Minister's would result in giving the world that finally gave her a sense of belonging more stability, she would do what she could.

Hermione did, however, feel like that she should speak with the Minister once Draco arrived about options on the off chance that she and Draco begin to the teeter the edge of killing each other. She had a pretty high tolerance for ignorance, but everyone had their breaking points, and she was convinced that knowing him as she did growing up, along with herself, that they could find that point rather quickly if given the opportunity. Pulling out a scrap piece of parchment from her drawer, she dipped her quill in its inkwell and began to jot down a few questions and suggestions for negotiation.

"Hermione?"

"Hello, Harry," she said, not even bothering to look up. She knew it was his knock on the door before she heard his voice.

"I thought you weren't at work today?"

Hermione shrugged and discretely pushed her list underneath a file folder. "Just came by to check on things before the weekend."

Harry laughed. "You're the only person I know that _likes_ coming in on their day off."

"This work doesn't do itself, you know," she teased back. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing much," he said, leaning against the doorway. "Just got back from returning some training reports I graded, but hey - do you know anything about this announcement next week?"

She played dumb and shrugged. "Announcement?"

"There's rumors going about, talking about some sort of 'big' announcement next week from Kingsley," Harry stated. "You really haven't heard anything about it?"

"Does it look like I make a point to participate in mindless, idle gossip?" Hermione asked with an arched eyebrow.

Harry snorted. "Fair point. How are your parents?"

"Doing well. I saw them this morning for breakfast. Is Ginny back yet?"

"She has one more road game before she's home for a stretch," Harry replied. "I'm ready for her to be home, too. Susan's been trying to be helpful, making me food and whatnot and sending it to work with Ron, but I'm not really a fan of her cooking. I also miss my wife."

"Is Molly still trying to teach Susan how to cook?"

"Yes, the poor woman."

"Molly or Susan?"

Harry laughed. "Both, probably. Susan's a really nice girl, but Molly fluster's her so easily. I told Ginny she just needs to show Susan how to master Ron's five favorite things and she'd be set for life."

Hermione laughed back. "Well if that's all Susan needs to know, tell her I can teach her."

"You'd probably frighten her more than Molly."

She scoffed. "How am I frightening?"

"Intimidating might be a better word," Harry corrected himself. "After all, you were the love of Ron's life."

"Food is the love of Ron's life. I might have come in second."

"Please. Ron loved you. A part of him still does."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron loved the idea of me, just like I loved the idea of Ron. We were a mess together. He's better off with someone like Susan Bones. She has always been a lovely girl. Once she starts having babies, Molly is going to be over the moon with her."

"Don't even _mention_ babies," Harry said with a moan. "Molly has been nagging Ginny to death lately about it. She doesn't understand that Ginny loves her quidditch career, and isn't ready to give it up to become a full time mum." He glanced down at his watch and gave Hermione a smile. "I've got to run to a meeting, but when Ginny gets back in town, let's get together for dinner, alright?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Sounds wonderful. Just let me know the date."

"Will do," Harry said, and disappeared from her office.

She wasn't sure if that dinner offer would still stand after the big announcement next week, but she knew that out of her two best friends, Harry would be the first one to come around, even if he hated what was happening. Ron was the rash one, and Harry was the reasonable one. It's how they'd always been.

Hermione pulled her scribble of notes back out from under the file folder and continued to make her list, taking up all of the front and most of the back when she heard a commotion outside her office. Estelle was clearly arguing, rather combatively, with a man that had an oddly familiar voice.

_"Miss Granger is here, but not here, and is not to be disturbed." _

_"I'm sure Miss Granger wouldn't mind if you told her that I needed to see her, and that it was urgent."_

_"And what is this urgent matter?" _

_"None of your bloody business, you nosey little twit."_

_"Excuse me!"_

As the conversation grew louder, Hermione huffed as she pushed herself away from the desk so she could stand. Note in hand, she stormed out of her office and towards the noise. "What in the name of all that is holy is going on out here!" she exclaimed, then quickly stopped in her steps.

"This _rude_ man here was trying to see you, and -" Estelle began to say, but was cut off by Hermione's hand.

"What in heaven's name are you doing here?" she said, speaking directly to Draco.

Draco gave her a rather unimpressed look. "You're really asking that?"

"Um, right," Hermione stammered momentarily.

"Can we talk somewhere? Privately?"

"Yes, um, certainly," she said, straightening up her posture a bit and turning to Estelle. "I am _not_ to be bothered, understood?"

Estelle nodded, though she was still scowling at the man. "Yes, Miss Granger."

"And Estelle, do not tell anyone about what you just saw."

"What did I just see?" Estelle asked, rather confused.

"Exactly," Hermione replied. Motioning for Draco to follow, she lead him back to her office and closed the two of them inside, sealing the office shut and adding a silencing charm for extra protection from her assistant. Standing face to face with a man she barely recognized, Hermione pointed towards the visitor's chair she had. "You're welcome to sit, you know."

Draco shook his head. "I'd prefer to stand."

"Suit yourself," Hermione replied as she retreated back to her office chair. "What can I do for you that you couldn't wait another two hours?"

"You have an idiot for a secretary, by the way," Draco said, not acknowledging Hermione's question.

"I'm aware of her deficiencies," Hermione replied.

"I must be going crazy," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" she asked. "I didn't hear you."

Draco waved her off. "Nothing. I…I just…I don't know why I came here. I just…I just needed to know, I guess, if you were going to say yes to this idiot plan of Shaklebolt's."

Hermione took a good look at the man before her, and for maybe the second time in her years of knowing him, found herself feeling truly sorry for him. He looked just as ragged and rundown as he did during their sixth year of school, and in desperate need of a haircut and a week's worth of sleep. "Are you going to say yes?"

"I want my wand back."

"So I've heard."

"You have no idea what it's like to not have your magic after a lifetime of having it, Granger," Draco snapped.

Hermione stared at him, unimpressed at his outburst. "Actions have consequences. I don't know what else to tell you. You're lucky you didn't get worse."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Granger. Just tell me if you're going to go through with this blasted plan."

"With this _adorable_ display in front of me, how could I _possibly_ refuse?"

He stared at her, and dropped his shoulders. "You're not funny, Granger."

"I beg to differ."

He caved, and dropped down in the visitor's chair across from her desk in a heap. "What are we going to do?" he asked, his voice laced with dread and uncertainty. "You can't possibly have any desire to marry me."

Hermione cracked a wry laugh. "You're right. I have zero desire to marry you, just as I'm positive in the notion that you have zero desire to marry me."

"So what do we do?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Call a truce? We're grown adults, Draco. Civility cannot be that hard to achieve."

"Civility between us?"

"I'll give as much as you do, if that's what you're asking," Hermione replied. "Look - I don't like this plan. My parents are, without saying it, unhappy that I'm willing to sacrifice my happiness for the sake of this world. But how are we supposed to say no to the Minister of Magic?"

Draco tossed his hands up in the air in defeat. "I don't know if we have a choice to say no. Well, you maybe, but not me."

"How do you figure?"

"Part of my not-going-to-Azkaban deal was being compliant with any and all Ministry requests," Draco said with a dejected tone. "My father, however, wants me to defy this request to the end."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Horrified at the prospect that my dirty blood is poised to soil your precious bloodline, I'm sure," she scoffed.

"That's a big part of it."

"And is that what you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"I believe it matters a great deal."

Draco sighed, and slouched down in the chair. "I could have a child with Pansy Parkinson, and it would wind up being a needy, whiny, demanding pain in the ass pureblood. I could have a child with Daphne Greengrass and it too would wind up being a needy, whiny, demanding pain in the ass."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Please, don't hold back."

"At least if I had to have a child with you, it might be a demanding pain the ass, but at least it would have enough intelligence to know when to give it up."

"So you're saying that the demanding pain in the ass part is a Malfoy trait."

"It's a Pureblood trait in general," Draco replied. "It's how we've become so popular over the years."

"Your sarcasm is endearing."

"It's a gift."

Taking the notes still in her hand, she leaned over and handed them to Draco. "I've been jotting down things we should discuss with the Minister this evening. If we're going to do this and let him make an example of us, then we should have terms that are met. We don't need the financial incentives. I know for a fact that your fortune is still very much in tact, and I have a small one of my own so it would be ridiculous to take money from the Ministry."

Draco nodded as he scanned through her list. "I agree." He agreed with most of what was on her list, and stopped short at seeing his father's name on her list. "Why do you have _Lucius_ written down?"

"His magic was stripped for six years, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well if you're getting a reprieve for participating, he should get a reprieve as well. So long as he doesn't turn his wand on me," she explained. "I figure this way, if you're father is as upset about this as I assumed and then you confirmed him to be, that maybe this exchange would, I don't know, make the situation easier to deal with."

He swallowed hard, not expecting any sort of graciousness extended by Hermione towards his family, considering they helped his aunt torture her during the war by allowing it to happen. "You don't have to…this isn't…Granger -"

"Kingsley said to me yesterday that it's up to us to save us from ourselves," Hermione said quietly, cutting him off as she could sense his uneasiness at her suggestion. "I recognize that the us in that statement is our world in general, but it applies to you and me as well, if we have any hope in hell of making this work."

Draco looked Hermione in the eye, returning her list as he looked at her with complete sincerity. "We're going to kill each other."

"Maim, maybe, but I don't think we'll kill each other."

"We're going to be required to produce children, which means we're going to have to have sex."

"I got the talk at thirteen, Draco. I know how children are made."

He scowled. "I'm being serious, Granger."

"Me too - Mum showed me diagrams and everything. It was rather horrifying now that I think back on it -"

"Granger!"

"Yes?"

He leaned forward in his chair. "Why are you being so cavalier about this?"

"Because if I'm serious about this, I'll follow my gut and my gut is telling me to run as far away from here and to never look back," she honestly replied.

Draco frowned. "Then why don't you run?"

"Because I'm a witch - a damn good one - and this is my home. This is where I belong."

"You're sense of duty and honor is completely mental."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe so. But if you want to say no, I'll say no as well."

"I already told you - I can't say no."

"Then neither can I."


	3. Chapter 3

**_I cannot say how excited I am at the response to this story. I was so afraid of 'oh no - another marriage fic' but your excitement and enthusiasm really means a lot to me. Thank you so much for all of your kind compliments! -Redhead414_**

* * *

There were a few things Kingsley Shacklebolt anticipated to happen in this initial meeting between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. He anticipated swearing. He anticipated scowling. He anticipated looks of disdain and despair, depending on whom he was addressing, and he certainly anticipated a bit of a fight.

What he didn't expect, however, was for the two of them to arrive to the meeting together, almost seeming to appear as if they had reached an agreement of sorts. The Minister's office was eerily quiet as Kingsley reviewed Hermione's list.

_We will not be expected to marry for at least three months from the date of the announcement._

_We will not be expected to announce any sort of pregnancy within the first year of the announcement._

_I (Hermione) refuse to reside inside Malfoy Manor._

_We wish for Lucius Malfoy to have his magical abilities returned to him immediately, upon the binding agreement that he does not use magic against his wife, son, any future children, or myself._

_We will not be expected to participate in any interviews with any wizarding publication regarding our 'new lives.'_

_We will expect the Ministry's full cooperation in our pursuit of privacy._

_We will expect the Ministry's full cooperation if the two of us decide that we cannot co-habitate peacefully after a determined period of time – this time period being agreed upon between us and the Ministry of Magic._

"Well," Kingsley said as he looked up from the list in hand. "I can see that you two put a lot of thought into this list."

"It was all her, Sir," Draco said. "I merely agreed to all of them but one."

Kingsley arched an eyebrow. "Am I to believe that the one you are in disagreement upon is your place of residence?"

"Precisely," Draco said in a clipped tone.

Hermione sat next to him; arms crossed against her chest, and shook her head. "I will not live in that house, and I believe that my reasons as to _why_ I will not live inside that home are rather obvious."

"I'm not saying you don't have a valid point in why you don't want to live in the Manor," Draco argued. "But it's Malfoy tradition –"

"Marrying a muggle is so far outside of _your_ traditions that the two don't share boundary lines," Hermione interrupted. "So you can't use that excuse. We will live in a home where we share equal footing. I will give up my flat and we can choose to live in a brand new place so that it's both of ours."

Draco shook his head. "My parents will be livid."

Hermione huffed. "Your parents don't get a choice in this decision."

"We can make each other quite miserable on our own, Granger. Trust me when I say that you do _not_ want my parents added into the mix."

Hermione huffed and clenched her jaw, a surefire sign to anyone that knew her that she had no intention – now or in the future – to budge from her current stance. "I want to add another thing to the list."

"Oh for the love of Merlin."

"And that would be, Hermione?" Kingsley inquired.

"I want an addendum to binding agreement that says Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy cannot, in any way, shape or form, influence or interfere with matters involving the two of us, and future."

Draco slouched down in his chair and dragged his hands over his face. "This is going to be the rest of my life. Lists and bloody addendums added to the list. Merlin kill me now."

Hermione snapped her attention to Draco and glared. "I'm sorry, did I hear you say something?"

"Ab-so-lute-ly not," he enunciated through a groan, muffled as his hands covered his mouth.

"Ok," Kingsley interjected, trying to see if he could redirect the conversation back to a semblance of control and reasoning. "Hermione, while I appreciate your list, I believe we may need to negotiate on a few of these things."

Hermione tightened the crossed arms against her chest and gave Kingsley a pointed stare. "Such as?"

"I can agree to the three months before officially becoming a married couple, but I would prefer it to be done sooner," Kingsley cautiously spoke. "But I cannot agree to the two of you waiting a year to have a child. Like I've said to both of you - the Ministry needs to have the two of you lead by example - and waiting a year to have a child is going to…"

"Make this entire thing look forced and us nonbelievers of this ridiculous plan?" Draco finished with a lazy drawl.

"I wouldn't put it that way, but yes," Kingsley replied with little preamble. "We will need you to announce a pregnancy within the first few months of being married."

"Months!" both Draco and Hermione shrieked.

Hermione leapt from her seat and began to pace furiously behind the chairs, her hands on her hips as she tried to process thought. She paced back and forth for several minutes, grinding her teeth with a locked jaw before finally looking at Kingsley, planting her feet directly behind Draco's seat. "It's one thing to ask us to do this, taking advantage of the fact that he can't say no and you know very well that despite everything telling me to say no will be completely overridden because of who I am as a person."

"Hermione -"

"You will let me finish," Hermione snapped, cutting Kingsley off before he could speak again. "But to take advantage of the fact that he can't say no and I _won't_ say no and to then tell us that we have to get married and have a baby before we can even figure out how to coexist peacefully without setting the room ablaze with our vast differences…I mean…you're already setting us up to fail by making us the example. Why would you then add on more pieces to this that would ensure our imminent demise?"

Kingsley cringed at what he was about to say next. "Well…that's the other thing, Hermione. While other couples will be allowed to dissolve their marriages should the be incompatible after a period of time, you two…will not be allowed to do so."

Draco felt the hairs on his neck stand up in horror. _There wouldn't be any way out of this - absolutely no way_, he thought to himself. "Mr. Minister," he said. "You have to give us this. You cannot ask us to be miserable forever."

"Unfortunately Draco -"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do not 'unfortunately Draco' Draco! He is right! If divorce is allowed for the other couples, it should be allowed for us as well. Because if we can't find a way to live with each other - even if we do manage to have children - we should still have the right as human beings to be happy one we fulfill the needs of the this agreement, which is to ultimately help boost the population, if I'm not mistaken. Honestly - I don't even know why people have to be married to have babies. It happens every day."

Kingsley frowned. "The wizarding world is much more guarded when it comes to children and having them out of wedlock. It might be common in Muggle society, but it is not common here. There are some traditions that we will always encourage, and marriage is one of them. We also discourage divorcing, though it is possible for those who show a desperate need."

"This is my line in the sand," Draco said, looking Kingsley in the eye. "If I am forced to break tradition and move into a house with Granger - fine. I can find a way to somehow deal with it. But we _will_ have an escape clause. I won't go through with this if there isn't one."

"Draco, wait," Hermione said. "You said you didn't -"

"I won't go through with this," he repeated, turning around so he could look at her. "We've paid our dues, Granger. We're not going to be beholden to the Ministry forever if it means being miserable. I'd rather lose my magic forever than live a miserable existence. I've had enough misery. I can tolerate a few more years, but I refuse tolerate a lifetime."

Hermione bit her lip and sighed. "You shouldn't have to lose your magic, Draco, regardless of how I feel about this."

"And again, you shouldn't have to spend the rest of your life being miserable, if it can be avoided," he added with a hint of dread.

Kingsley cleared his throat, after watching the two of them for a moment. "I will grant an eleven year, two child minimum waiver to the two of you. If you two cannot possibly stand being married a moment longer by the time your first child prepares to leave for Hogwarts, I will personally sign the divorce decree myself."

"Eleven years?" Hermione questioned. "How about seven years."

"Eleven years," Kingsley repeated. "Take it or leave it."

The two reluctant partners in a cruel, twist of fate didn't have much of a choice. Hermione couldn't live with herself knowing that Draco willingly sacrificed his magic, even if the eleven-year marriage minimum, in her opinion, was right ridiculous. "Eleven years," she said quietly.

Draco nodded. "Eleven years. Think we can do it?"

"If I'm lying, then sure. This will completely and totally work."

Kingsley opened up his desk drawer and pulled out a long, black box. Removing the lid, he pulled out a black, Hawthorne wood wand with a brown handle, ten inches in length. "Why don't you take your wand, and you and Miss Granger can take this time to get to know each other - perhaps using words instead of hexes? You can report back here Monday morning to join us for the formal Ministry announcement."

* * *

Figuring they shouldn't be seen in public together within the Wizarding world, Hermione convinced Draco that her flat would be the safest place to sit and attempt to have a conversation. "Just…I don't know…sit wherever," Hermione said as she walked into the small kitchen that was attached to the living room. She rummaged through her cabinets, looking for something to whip up for dinner but didn't find much. She had every intention of running to the grocery story last night after work, but Kingsley's discussion with her gave way to other plans.

Draco took a seat on her leather sofa as he looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings, holding his very familiar wand in hand. Something about holding his wand made him feel complete, instead of what he'd been feeling since he'd been sentenced after the war. He rolled it back and forth between his hands, his muscle memory not forgetting a single feel of the wand.

Hermione came into the living room, about to offer up a suggestion of ordering in some Chinese food when she stopped short of saying anything as she watched Draco focus on nothing but the wand in his hand. She might not know what it would feel like to have your wand removed from your possession for so long, but she remembered not having her wand during the war, and having to replace it once Ollivander's reopened. She still had a Vinewood with a dragon heartstring core, but it was a little longer than her last wand and a bit thinner as well. While it felt better than using Bellatrix's wand, it still wasn't the same. Even she at times felt herself wishing her old wand would return, but knew it was wishful thinking.

"Draco?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like Chinese food?"

He nodded, still rolling his wand between his hands. "Goyle and I eat it sometimes. I like the noodle one…it has chicken in it."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see. "Chicken Lo Mein?"

"Maybe. I don't really know the names. I just eat what Goyle brings to the Manor."

"Alright," she replied. "I didn't realize he was a fan of Chinese food."

Draco snorted. "You've seen him. He's a fan of food in general."

"You make a fair point," Hermione replied with a small laugh. "There's a small take out place around the corner. If you'd like, I can run down there really quick and be back shortly."

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she offered. "You're fine to stay if you'd prefer."

He shook his head. "I'll accompany you out."

She arched an eyebrow. "You'll _accompany_ me? What is this, 1862?"

Draco swallowed his exasperation. "It's the proper thing to do, considering the circumstances."

"You realize that I'm perfectly capable of acquiring Chinese food without assistance, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco realized that this evening, from the meeting with the Minister on, was giving him a pretty good glimpse as to what the next eleven years were going to look like. "I'm just trying to be _polite_, Granger. I am not insinuating in any sort of way that you are incapable of anything."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to see if she could read him. "You sound like you're being sincere…" Hermione said a few moments later. "But I can't really tell for sure."

"Oh bloody hell, Granger, let's just go and get some blasted food already!" Draco all but shouted.

"Alright, Alright!" Hermione exclaimed as she grabbed her purse from the hook on the wall. Tossing the long strap across her body, she pulled her keys out and opened the front door. "After you," she said with an ushering arm.

He gave her a peculiar look and nodded towards her keys. "I thought you said it was around the corner. Are we driving?"

She shook her head. "The key to my flat is this one, and I need them to lock up my flat so people can't break in."

"You can't just put up a ward?"

"It's a Muggle flat, Draco."

"Are you going to want us to live in a Muggle house? In a Muggle neighborhood? Surrounded by Muggles?" he asked, sounding almost petrified at the thought as it left his lips.

Hermione shrugged. "I think we have lots of things to discuss, Draco - where we live being one of them. We don't need to sort it all out in one night."

He left it alone, walking out of her flat and waiting for her to lock up before following her down the two flights of stairs and out to the restaurant. They walked side by side silently, his head down slightly with his hands in his pants pockets, while Hermione waved at familiar faces and smiled at passersby. Inside the restaurant, Hermione realized that Draco wasn't kidding when he said he didn't know the names of things, and kept a straight face as he pointed and mumbled into her ear like a small child while she ordered. They were back in Hermione's flat moments later, a sack full of Chinese food to share between them. Hermione had Draco place the food on the coffee table in front of the couch and disappeared to the kitchen, returning with two forks and two glasses of pumpkin juice.

"We can just eat out of the cartons," she said.

"Without a plate?"

"Live a little," she teased, handing him his fork and his glass. She sat down on the couch, pushing her glass out of the way, and began going through the Chinese bag, pulling out food and placing it in front of them. Prying open a box of orange chicken, she stabbed a piece and popped it into her mouth, reclining into the corner of the couch and tucking her feet up underneath her as she held onto her white carton. "Is it good?" she asked between bites of her food.

He nodded, chewing for a second before swallowing. "It's fantastic, actually. Much better than whatever it is Goyle drags over when he's tired of being at his parents' house."

Hermione smiled. "Well I'm glad you like it."

Dinner between the two of them was relatively silent, but not uncomfortably so. Everyone once in awhile, Draco would steal a glance out of the corner of his eye at Hermione. She didn't look much as he remembered her from school. Her bushy hair was non-existent, he assumed due to a liter or so of some sleek-easy. _That or she found a decent hairdresser,_ he thought to himself with a mouthful of noodles. She was still short, but lost her rounded baby face and eventually grew into her teeth. _She isn't difficult to look at_, he heard himself say, then immediately shook the thought away. Of course, it wasn't necessarily a horrible thought. His mother would be pleased at the fact that she was at least pretty. He could already hear his mother talking about what beautiful grandchildren they would make for her.

_Grandchildren. Children. Sex. Hermione Granger. Sex with Hermione Granger to produce children. What in the fuck did I get myself into? _

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"You alright?" Hermione asked. "You seem…disturbed there for a second."

He scoffed, shaking his head free of his thoughts again. "Hardly. What are you doing staring at me?"

"You're the only other person in the room," she said. "Besides, I can't help it if I'm slightly impressed at the sight of a man eating in my presence that knows how to chew with his mouth shut."

That made Draco smirk. "I forgot about the Weasel. Still devouring everything in sight like a starved sloth?"

"At times," Hermione replied with a wry smile. "He's married to Susan Bones. Did you know?"

"I heard that I think, from Blaise maybe. He fills me in on the gossip when he hears it. Scarhead and the Weaselette are married too, right?"

"They are, and you're going to have to stop calling them that," she replied. "They're my good friends."

Draco scowled. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Then at least try."

"Do I have to try hard?"

"Draco!"

"Alright!" he relented. "I will _try - _really try - not to call Scarhead and the Weaselette, well, Scarhead and the Weaselette."

Hermione made a face and just shook her head as she finished off her pint of orange chicken. "You're incorrigible."

"Among other things," he said, his tone shifting as he looked back down at his food.

She frowned at his tone. Watching him be able to banter one minute and then immediately shut down bothered her a bit. She could tell that he was dreading going home just by him staying with her as long as he had been. They could have easily grabbed a quick bite and parted ways, but they'd been in her flat now for nearly an hour and a half. "Draco?" she asked, putting her empty carton on the coffee table and grabbed her juice. "Can I tell you something?"

He shrugged. "Am I going to be able to stop you?"

"Are you teasing me?"

"Sort of," he replied. He looked over his shoulder at her and waited. "Well?"

"Right," she said. "I just, I was going to say that earlier, in Kingsley's office, when I said that I wanted it in writing that your parents couldn't interfere with our lives…it was for you as much as it was for me. You even said so yourself - we're going to make each other miserable all on our own most times - we don't need help from them either."

Draco nodded, exhaling a resigned sigh as he rested his chin on his shoulder. "I know. Just like I know you're right about not living in the Manor. As much as I want to keep some sort of Malfoy tradition alive in this hostage situation we're being put in…I wouldn't want you going back there. I can't even go into that bloody drawing room anymore. I still have nightmares."

"That makes two of us," Hermione confessed quietly.

"Yeah," Draco replied as he exhaled, not really knowing what else to say.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sorry for the delay - I had a legit reason this time. My sister had a baby this past week and he is so cute it's distracting me from everything! **_

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stormed through a relatively quiet Ministry, accompanied by a terrified Tippi. The tip of his cane echoed through the marbled halls with each intentional step as he took the all too familiar path of his past from the atrium to the Minister of Magic's office. "Keep _up, _Tippi!" he snapped at the elf while rounding the corner of the hallway.

"Yes, Master!" Tippi squeaked, his scurrying steps shuffling even quicker than before.

Upon reaching the Minister's office, he bypassed the secretary desks as they were unoccupied on a Saturday and burst straight into the Minister's office, where he found Kingsley sitting at his desk, doing a bit of light paperwork.

"Knocking is preferred in most civilized cultures, Mister Malfoy."

"My son did not return home last night!" Lucius bellowed, causing Tippi to cower behind him. "Thanks to you, he's probably shacked up somewhere with that filthy mud…excuse for a witch! You are going to _ruin_ my family's bloodline!"

Kingsley, ever calm and reserved, looked up at Lucius and motioned for him to sit. "We can have a conversation like two grown adults if you'd like."

Lucius narrowed his eyes in a steeled glare. "What I'd _like_ is for you to _reassign_ my son to be matched with someone _worthy enough_ to carry the _Malfoy_ name, and to birth the next Malfoy _heir_."

"You know, your son and Hermione have a lot more in common than you realize."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Considering I saw them sitting in my office less than twenty-four hours ago with more of a united front than I could have ever anticipated, I believe I know a little bit of what I speak about," he plainly replied. "Those two are going to show our world that we didn't just throw ourselves through hell years ago to continue to keep ourselves segregated. The Pureblood wizard is a dying breed, Lucius. We're all going to be mixed eventually, and if Hermione and Draco can lead that sort of change, this unfortunate exercise will prove to be worth it, not only to the Ministry but to the two of them as well."

Lucius continued to scowl as he took a step closer to Kingsley. "This _never_ would have happened under Fudge's watch."

"Probably because you would have bought him off."

"If my son chooses to go along with this plan of yours, you will live to regret it."

Kingsley stood up from his chair and stared Lucius straight in the eye. "Threatening the Minister of Magic is not a wise strategy, Lucius. I'll have you know that your future daughter-in-law negotiated for you to get your magic back as a result of this arrangement, and I was going to do it."

Taken aback by Kingsley's words, Lucius looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"Hermione Granger thought it would be in her best interest if you were to regain all magical abilities as a show of good faith towards you," Kingsley repeated. "But with that threat you just made, I don't know how I can grant her request in good faith."

"Do you take me for some kind of fool?" Lucius hissed. "Do you really think I'd fall for such a petty trick?"

"Ask your son if you don't believe me."

"Well if I ever see him again, I might!"

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sure he's fine, Lucius."

Dropping his defensive stance, Lucius collapsed into the chair and Kingsley sat back down. He propped his cane up against his chair and sighed. "You know, when Draco was little, after hearing story after story about how this Granger girl bested my son in everything but flying, I used to catch myself wishing that she was a pureblood."

Kingsley smirked slightly. "Because she has all the talents?"

"Have you ever met a mud…muggle witch with her kind of talent? Or wizard for that matter?"

"Unfortunately, I can't say that I have."

"That sort of talent goes against everything you and I were brought up to believe."

Nodding, Kingsley reclined a bit in his chair and propped his feet up on the corner of his desk. "The only difference being is that I didn't let those prejudiced ways influence my beliefs."

"I can't change how I was raised."

"But if you acknowledge that how you were raised is wrong, then stop being that way and start embracing the fact that witches and wizards are nothing more than witches and wizards. No one introduces themself as Johnny the Halfblood or Marcus the Muggle. Magic is what we all have in common, and it's our magic that should unite us instead of dividing us."

Lucius shook his head. "It's not as easy as it sounds."

"Actually, if I were in your position, it would be exactly as easy as it sounds," Kingsley argued. "What better ways have you come up with to get back into society's good graces? Accepting Hermione Granger - who I feel like I should say is a kind, fierce, loyal, brave, and brilliant woman - can only help you in achieving the one thing you want back more than anything."

"And what, do you think that is?" Lucius sarcastically quipped.

"A better reputation, and maybe just a little bit of your dignity."

* * *

Draco awoke that morning in unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a few minutes, but he quickly realized that he was asleep on a couch that didn't belong to him. Across from him, curled up in a matching leather chair, was Hermione, with strands of hair covering her face as she perched her chin on her shoulder while she slept. He didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, nor did he remember being covered up by the blanket that was currently keep him warm in the cool apartment. The last thing he remembered talking to Hermione about was his father, and how he'd turned into a sharp, scathing, skeleton of his former self. _All my life I wanted to be just like my father_, he remembered telling Hermione. _But now my childhood hero is anything but, and it's not the life I want. _

He rolled over quietly, his head propped up against a multicolored throw pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. If he didn't want to be like his father, marrying Hermione Granger was certainly one way of becoming a complete polar opposite. He looked over at her, watching her sleep. Draco could see the faint scar from his aunt's magic-tainted knife along her neck, and wondered for a second if her body bore as many scars as he did. _She's rather pretty when she sleeps_, he thought for a moment. _Quiet too_. Laughing silently at his own joke, he continued to stare at her as she peacefully slept. Draco knew that with a bit of effort, he could learn to like her - and possibly even love her. He was already tolerating her a lot more than he initially thought he could. The way she spoke to him last night, confiding in him that she was looking out for his best interests as well as her own when it came to his parents - his father especially - already told him that on some level she cared, even if she wasn't ready to come right out and say it.

Of course, Draco wasn't quite ready to come out and say that he might already care just a little bit as well.

Hermione woke up a few moments later with a stiff neck and a stitch in her side. She stretched her legs out carefully as she remembered the chair she was sleeping in. When Draco fell asleep, she was half tempted to back into her room for the night and leave him be but instead covered him with a blanket, grabbed one for herself, and watched him sleep peacefully. She was unsure if he'd wake up or sleep through the night, and if he did wake up, Hermione wanted to make sure he could leave if he wanted.

Tossing the blanket aside, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She could see Draco wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. Hermione remembered him confessing that like her, he was also plagued with nightmares from their past. Of all the things to have in common, she would have preferred something different, but common ground was common ground. "Draco?"

"Granger."

"Did you sleep alright?"

He nodded. "It's a pretty comfortable couch. I didn't mean to sleep here last night, though. I'm certain my father is furious that I didn't return last night."

Hermione shrugged. "I imagine with the way we row, you'll more than likely spend a night or two on that couch in our future, so I'm glad you find it comfortable."

Draco couldn't help but laugh. "Imagining kicking me out of the bedroom already?"

"I like to be prepared. Do you want some breakfast?"

He shook his head. "I'm not really a breakfast person. I usually just drink coffee and eat a spot of toast."

"Same here," Hermione replied with a tired smile. She stretched her arms up over her head and yawned as she retreated into the kitchen. Pulling mugs out of the kitchen, she turned around and jumped at the sight of Draco standing behind her, half a foot seeming to separate the two of them. "Jesus, Draco!" she exclaimed. "Wear a bell!"

He looked at her, somewhat confused. "Wear a bell?"

"You know, like a cat, so you can be heard," she explained, setting the mugs down on the countertop. She scooped some coffee into a filter and dropped it into her automatic coffee maker and waited for it to brew. "You startled me."

"So I noticed."

She held the back of her neck with her hand and turned to look at him. She decided when she changed last night to forgo her usual sleepwear - a short sleep dress - and instead wore a pair of pajama pants she nicked from Harry a few years back and an old Gryffindor shirt she used to wear to Harry and Ron's quidditch games. Her hair was somewhat held back by a messy bun that was two or three headshakes away from completely falling apart. As she rubbed the crick from her neck while the coffee brewed, she couldn't help but notice that Draco was not only standing close, but he was staring a bit as well. "I'm sure I look a mess," she nervously blurted, glancing over at the coffee pot to see if it was anywhere close to being full…and it was barely halfway.

Draco shrugged. "You look like you just woke up."

"But you're staring."

"I'm not trying to."

"Why are you staring?" she quietly asked.

She watched Draco exhale. "I was thinking this morning…about everything we're about to leap into."

Hermione nodded, squeezing the back of her neck again. "Having second thoughts?"

He shook his head no. "A bit of the opposite, actually." He took another step closer to her, his rumpled shirt untucked from the wrinkled pants he slept in and sharply inhaled. "I really think we can learn to like each other. I'm not saying it's going to be easy - but I think it can be possible."

"Alright," she slowly replied, looking up at him. "So what are we going to do while we try to get that point?"

"Fake it until we make it," Draco asserted.

Before Hermione could reply, she felt his lips lightly brush against hers, so fleeting that if she had blinked she would have missed it in its entirety. Regaining her wherewithal to speak, she looked back at him with surprise. "What was that?"

He couldn't help but chuckle a bit as the coffee maker began to finally slow its trickle. "A kiss, Granger."

"Obviously it was a kiss, you nitwit. I mean, what - why?"

"They're going to throw us out to the media wolves on Monday," Draco said as he retreated to the finished brewed pot and poured some into the mugs Hermione previously retrieved. "We should probably spend the weekend together, or maybe just time together, so we don't look like two stone gargoyles standing next to each other when the Minister makes his announcement."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "And that's why you kissed me."

"We're going to be married, Granger. Kissing is a pretty regular thing that happens between two married people."

"I'm sorry," she said with a shake of her head. I'm not quite understanding what you're saying here."

"You're awfully daft for someone that's supposedly supposed to be the _brightest witch of our age_."

She rolled her eyes. "So you mean to tell me that you actually want to _try _to like, be in a real relationship?"

"Did you think we were just going to pretend for the next decade or so?"

"Well…actually…yes…I considered it to be a real possibility."

Draco scowled as he handed her a mug. "Nice to know you think that little of me."

"I wasn't thinking that little of you!" Hermione immediately exclaimed. "I just - you and me - and our history. I assumed we'd just try to make the best of it, do what we needed to do, and then find a way to co-exist in a peaceful manner."

"And you don't think we can do better?"

"I believe that the act of thinking and the act of doing are two very different things," Hermione logically replied. "I don't think we should just leap to the end of the road, and force -"

"We're already being _forced_, Granger," Draco interjected.

"I don't care!" Hermione exclaimed. "I can't just wake up tomorrow and have feelings for you! It's not how I am, and it's not how I function. You might be able to just do whatever it is that you do with women without a thought passing through that thick skull of yours, but I'm not that way!" She put down her coffee and yanked her hair out of it's messy bun, only to pull it back up and tie it back into a less messy version of what she was previously sporting. "Look," she spoke again, trying to calm herself down. "I'm weird, ok? I'm weird and I fully admit it. I've only had one serious relationship. I don't date. I don't really even think I know _how_ to date. I'm bossy and opinionated and there aren't a lot of men that know what to do with that, other than running the other way."

Draco chuckled and took a big gulp of his coffee. "Granger, none of what you just said makes you weird."

"Excuse me?"

"You're basically apologizing for not being a tramp," Draco replied. "Obviously I have a reputation, and it's not something I'm entirely proud of. While you bury your problems by shoving your nose in a book, I bury my problems by sleeping with women and not thinking twice about it." He took another drink from his mug and then placed it next to hers on the countertop. "And I wasn't implying that we just 'leap to the end of the road' as you so eloquently put it. I wasn't proposing that we just get naked and screw. I was just saying that maybe, if we pretend to like each other, we'll eventually stop pretending."

Hermione frowned, crossing her arms against her chest. "I don't want to pretend to like you, Draco. I want you to _make_ me like you. And I certainly don't want you to pretend to like me."

Draco raked a hand through his hair and dropped his shoulders. "Granger, I'm not saying we pretend forever. But we're fine one minute and doing this the next - and we'll go insane before we ever get to the wedding if we keep this up."

She sighed. She knew he was right and she didn't want to admit it. Dropping her arms in defeat, she hung her head low for a moment, steeling her nerves before looking back at him. "So we just let everything go…that's happened between us."

"It's in our past, and my past in particular isn't something I'm ever going to be proud of," Draco quietly replied. "I want to do something in my life I can be proud of, Hermione."

She smiled at the sound of her name. "Well, for start, you can keep saying my name. It sounds much more pleasant than the way you ground out my last name."

He let a small chuckle escape. "I can't imagine I'll ever stop calling you Granger, but I can try to use your first name more if you'd like."

Hermione nodded, and took a step forward so that the gap between them was even smaller. "You know, your past doesn't have to define you."

"I know," Draco replied. "And I don't want it to."

She looked directly at him, trying to see if there was even a flicker of deceit behind his eyes, and Hermione found that she was surprised at the sincere look of honesty staring back at her. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione straightened up her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. "Kiss me," she demanded.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What the -"

"Kiss me," she repeated. "Kiss me the way you kiss those girls you take home at night."

He laughed. "You couldn't handle a kiss like that, Granger."

"Kiss me just like you kiss those girls," she repeated with a false sense of bravery. "Because I want to know what I've got to look forward to when we get past this fake it until we make it stage."

Draco swallowed a laugh, figuring if he actually did laugh he'd get punched. "Hermione -"

"You _just said_ that 'kissing is a pretty regular thing that happens between married people', so kiss me again."

"And what happens after that?" Draco asked.

"After that…" Hermione said, pausing to think for a moment. "After that, we start at the beginning. We can go on dates, and learn to enjoy each other's company, and try to make this seem like it's a choice that we might have made had the Ministry not made the choice for us."

"And then after that we do what?"

"Get to the point where we want to kiss each other like that."

Draco smirked. "That's quite a plan, Granger."

"I'm a planner. It's what I do."

"So I've heard."

"Well, what are you waiting for then?" Hermione asked. "Because I honestly can't imagine you'd make any other girl that demands you to kiss them wai -"

Her ranting was cut off once again by Draco's lips, only instead of them fleeting brushing against hers, they were crushing. His hands held her head, his fingers weaving through her hair. She opened her mouth and wrapped her arms up around his neck, feeling his hands move down her back as he pulled her even closer. Hermione barely noticed her legs being pulled up by Draco's hands, her bottom landing on top of the countertop. The moment she heard Draco moan, however, snapped Hermione back to reality and her hands immediately found his chest, pushing him back as the two were left catching their breath. She looked right at him, half tempted to smack the smug look off of his face.

"You seriously kiss women like that?" she asked in between breaths.

"Usually."

She shoved a hand into his chest hard and hopped off the counter. "How do you even learn to kiss like that?"

Draco laughed and shrugged. "It's a gift. Consider yourself lucky - I'm all yours now."

"Don't kiss me like that again," she warned while grabbing her coffee. Her face was flushed and her heart was racing to the beat of embarrassment, something that Hermione had never processed well.

"What do you mean 'don't kiss you like that again'? You're the one that told me to do it!"

She turned around, holding her coffee mug with both hands. "Don't kiss me like that ever again, unless you absolutely, 100% mean it."

"And in the meantime, how would you prefer to be kissed?" Draco asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Hermione felt the red in her cheeks slowly fade as she smirked. "Please. At this moment in time, you'll be lucky if I let you hold my hand."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5 is here! Hope you enjoy! Also - I'm going to change the rating of this story to T. I know I've written smut in the past...but the more I think about having to do it again, the more I cringe. I'm not good at it, and as I wrote some of my other stories without it...I realized that I almost liked the story better. So...sorry in advance...**_

* * *

Draco and Hermione stood opposite each other in a hidden hallway off the side of the atrium of the Ministry. The Minister was already out near the memorial fountain, surrounded by a large gathering of witches, wizards, and reporters. How Monday came so soon was beyond Hermione's comprehension, as she sat on the cold marble floor, her legs straight and crossed as she was wearing a black, knee length shirt with a sheer white blouse over top a pink tank top. Her hair was tied back in a side, fishtail sort of braid and curved around to hang on the side, her fingernails nervously drumming against the floor.

"I can't believe you still do that?"

"Do what?"

Draco, standing upright in a standard black suit, gestured to her fingernails. "You used to do that in during exams all the time in class. Bloody annoying."

She stopped her fingers and bit her lower lip. "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Draco flatly replied.

Hermione sighed, and the two looked down towards the end of the hallway at the mass of people. They could hear the Minister outlining the financial incentives of the plan. _We will award all couples that apply for marriage licenses and file them with the Ministry in the next six months 993 galleons and 23 knuts. We will award all couples that apply for marriage licenses and file them with the Ministry after the first six months but before the year is over 794 galleons, 7 sickles, and 13 knuts - roughly 80% percent of what we're offering for marriages completed within the first six months._

"God, that's a lot of money," Hermione mumbled to herself.

"Is it?" Draco asked.

She looked at him, somewhat bewildered. "It's nearly 5000 pounds in Muggle money, which would be considered quite a sum to an ordinary person."

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't seem like a lot of money to me."

"Well considering you've never had to worry about money -"

"And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hermione snapped under her breath. "I wasn't trying to start a row - I was just saying that if you don't have to worry about money, it's easy not to recognize what equates to a lot of money for average people."

Draco frowned. "Did you grow up poor?"

"Heavens no," Hermione replied. "My parents are dentists. They are very well off."

"Well then how do _you_ know what seems to be a lot of money? Because it sounds like you're just like me."

Hermione shrugged. "My parents never talked about money with me as if we had an abundance of it. I got an allowance as a child, and we didn't live extravagantly. My parents came from lower, middle class backgrounds, and so they taught me the value of a pound, and that not everyone was as fortunate as we were."

_Children born to those couples who participate in the marriage incentive program will receive an additional 993 galleons upon the birth of their first child, and for each child after that up to five children. Every year until the child is eighteen, the parents will receive an additional stipend of 297 galleons, 15 sickles, and 15 knuts per child - called the 'child maintenance fee.' This fee is to help offset any costs associated with medical care, school supplies and uniforms for Hogwarts, and any other uses that will be to the betterment of the child's life. All expenses must be tracked and an itemized report must be turned into the Ministry's record department before the end of the year. Those that do not turn in the reports will not be eligible to receive the stipend for the following year._

"You think the Ministry is going to go broke with this insane plan?" Draco asked as he started to do the math in his head. "Because if you add that up, a couple that gets married and maxes out the children -"

"10,327 galleons and 12 sickles," Hermione repeated, practically flabbergasted at the number. "Do you think it's possible that the Ministry could go broke?"

Draco held a hand out to her and helped pull her upright, as their moment in the spotlight was rapidly approaching. "I'd like to think someone was counting galleons when they cooked up this grand plan, but who knows. I can't really say the Ministry of Magic is known for their bright ideas, can you?"

Hermione sighed. Even though Kingsley was in charge, she was beginning to have her doubts about all of this. Letting go of his hand, she brushed off her skirt and rolled her head back and forth and shifted her shoulders, stretching out her tense muscles. Her stomach was in knots, and it wasn't a comfortable feeling. "I feel like I'm going to vomit," she muttered. Looking up at him, she couldn't see a trace of nerves on his face. "How are you so freaking calm right now?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes!" she hissed. "I want to empty the contents of my stomach all over the floor and you're standing there like this is a walk in the park!

Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. "First off, you're clearly freaking out enough for the both of us, so one of us should try to be calm - and judging by your current state, clearly that's going to be me. Second - _don't_ vomit on my shoes. They're new. And third - once you've sat at a dining room table with the Dark Lord - everything else seems pretty tame."

She was ready to smart back with a sarcastic remark about his ruddy new shoes, when a Ministry employee ducked his head into the hallway and cleared his throat, alerting both of them to his presence. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," the man said in his nasally voice. "The Minister is ready for you now."

Hermione looked petrified for a moment, and Draco stood up a little bit straighter. He pulled his hands from his pocket, and gently placed one of them on the small of her back. "Come on," he whispered in her ear. "The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can go back to hiding in your Muggle apartment where no one can find us."

"So you're ok with being a recluse?" Hermione asked, trying to make a joke.

"Come on," he said again, pressing his hand slightly into her back.

She did as he instructed, her ears somehow blacking out at the sounds of the gasps and shouts as the Minister introduced them as the faces of the marriage initiative. There were several faces that Hermione recognized in the crowd. Some of her Gryffindor classmates, the entire Weasley family, Harry and Ron standing off to the side of the group with the rest of the Ministry Aurors with matching looks of horror on their face.

"As you can see," the Minister announced, motioning with a hand to Draco and Hermione as they now stood right next to him. "Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, two prominent faces in our world, have come together for the good of our world, to help promote this initiative. They have graciously agreed to be the first couple to marry under the law, and to help us promote the most important initiative this incentive program has to offer - unity."

"Unity! Pairing a war hero with a death eater!" an outraged citizen shouted from the crowd. "Has the Ministry gone mad!?"

Hermione looked up at Draco, impressed at how his face remained neutral.

"Sir, you need to watch what you say," the Minister sternly reprimanded. "Draco Malfoy has paid his dues, and was forced to follow the Dark Lord against his will. Any more outbursts of this nature will call for an immediate removal of this press conference."

"Mister Minister," an all too familiar, irritating voice called out in a high-pitched, sing song like voice from the front row.

Kingsley looked down at Rita Skeeter and nodded at her with his hand. "Yes, Ms. Skeeter."

She bat her eyelids a few times, her quick quill perched on her shoulder as she stared at Hermione and Draco. "Many of my readers are going to be _very interested _to learn when these two lovebirds began dating."

"We aren't actually dating," Draco snarled, scowling at Rita Skeeter. "Actually, I take that back - we are dating, but we only started last Friday when the Minister approached us about this project. It is our belief that this initiative is for the good of our world, as the Minister has said, and Hermione and I welcome the opportunity to be a part of a plan that carries the potential to keep our world healthy, and most importantly - populated."

Hermione tried to add in her own remarks, but found herself unable to speak. For the first time in her life, she was experiencing what true petrification was, and in her own opinion, this development was an embarrassment to her old Hogwarts house. She did, however, find relief in the fact that Draco had calmed whatever nerves he might have had to the point where he could take control. She wasn't used to that - someone else stepping up. Hermione was always the brains of every operation when she and her friends found themselves in a conundrum of sorts. She couldn't imagine standing up here next to anyone else and not being the mouthpiece.

"You're actually going to do this, Hermione!"

Hermione's head snapped to Ron's voice, looking at him, as he appeared to be somewhat restrained by Harry's hand on his upper arm. "Actually going to do what, Ron?" she managed to calmly ask.

"Marry that git!" he shouted. "He was horrible to you growing up! His aunt tortured you! And now you're just going to marry him!"

Before she could answer, Draco stepped forward and stared right at Ron Weasley. "If I recall correctly, there were a fair number of tears spilled from my fiancée over _you_ when we were all children, and yet she still seems to find it appropriate to continue being _your_ friend."

Ron looked like he was about to shout something else, but Harry jerked him back, and harshly whispered in his ear.

"Oh Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned her attention back to Rita Skeeter and did her best not to mimic Draco's earlier scowl. "Yes?" she managed to force herself to speak.

"My readers are also going to want to know when the pending nuptials will take place."

"We…we haven't set a date yet," she replied, looking over at Draco and then back at Hermione.

"But rest assured when we do choose a date, you _won't_ be invited," Draco snarked, causing some chuckles among the audience in front of them. "Like all Malfoy weddings, it will be a _private_ affair."

"So are you doing this for the money?" Rita inquired, ignoring Draco's public snub.

Hermione shook her head no. "Draco and I are not in any need of financial assistance, and therefore have requested that the Ministry make us exempt from the monetary incentives."

"We just want to do our part and help the Ministry," Draco added.

"You don't think you're doing this out of guilt?" a magical citizen shouted out from the other side.

Hermione felt the hand that Draco had kept against her back fall away, and as she looked up at him, she could see his jaw tense. Grabbing his hand, she forcefully laced her fingers with him and looked over at the man, who by the looks of everyone else in the crowd, had seemed to ask what they were all thinking. "Draco and I are doing this because the Minister of Magic - who I consider to be a man of morals and integrity - asked us to, and for no other reason. We have faith in the Minister's plan, and we hope that our community takes advantage of this opportunity so that we may be able to finally begin to recover from the Second Wizarding War from an economical standpoint." She felt a little bit more like herself in finding her voice as she stared the man in the eye, while giving Draco's hand what she hoped was interpreted as a squeeze of encouragement.

The pair stood quietly after that, allowing the Minister to take a few more questions before the press conference ended and the large group of people begin to disperse, the chatter loud about these new initiatives. Hermione saw Harry and Ron making a beeline for her, and before either one of them could say anything, she held a hand out to both of them.

"Hermione you have to listen -"

"We can have a _civilized conversation_ in my office," she interrupted Ron with a stern look.

Ron scowled, but nodded all the same.

Draco and Hermione allowed Ron and Harry to lead the way towards her office; their hands linked the entire time. Draco's face may have looked calm again, but Hermione could tell by the death grip on her hand that he was anything but calm. Once inside Hermione's office, she pulled Draco back with her, using her desk as a barrier between them and her best friends.

"Would you stop doing that?" Ron barked as Harry shut the door, smartly casting a silencing charm for added measure.

"Stop what, Ron?" Hermione asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Touching him like that."

"Like this?" Draco asked, holding up their linked hands.

"Yes!"

"No," Draco smugly replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look - I can see that you're both somewhat in shock, but it's not like you two can tell the Minister 'no' any better than I can."

Ron scoffed. "If he said marry Draco Malfoy, I would have _definitely _said no."

"Well too bad for you I don't swing that way," Draco snarked.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned rather desperately. "Say something."

Harry shrugged, his shoulders weighed down slightly by the heavy Auror cloak he donned. "I just don't know why you'd say yes," he said, almost sounding disappointed.

Hermione frowned, and sighed. "It's the right thing to do, Harry. You heard Kingsley."

"I know I heard him, but you deserve better. No offense, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "I'm aware that the Gryffindor Princess could probably do better in the eyes of everyone. You aren't telling me anything that isn't already being said."

"If you hurt her -"

"Yeah, yeah, Potter," Draco interrupted with a bored drawl. "I know the drill. I hurt her and you kill me. I don't need the lecture."

Harry frowned, and looked back at Hermione. "I don't like this plan, Hermione."

"It's not your plan to like, Harry," Hermione plainly replied.

"But we're your best friends!" Ron exclaimed.

"And best friends _support_ each other!" Hermione shouted back. "You don't have to like my decision, but you can at least have enough decency to respect it. Merlin knows the two of you have made loads of terrible decisions and I never once disowned you for _any_ of them."

Ron started to rebuttal once more, but Draco was over this merry-go-round fight that had no end in sight. Letting go of her hand, he walked around the desk and looked at the two of them. "Look - all of this bickering is making me feel oddly protective of Granger and I don't really know how to process this with the two of you here so let's just recap this problem - you vehemently disagreeing with our_ mutual_ decision to cater to the Minister's crazy plan - and maybe schedule another time where you can continue to list out your reasons why at a later date."

Hermione was almost certain that she saw a brief, near smirk cross Harry's face at Draco's sarcasm, but it appeared as quickly as it disappeared. After a brief staring match and another threat to end Draco's existence at the thought of hurting her, Harry all but dragged Ron out of Hermione's office and Draco shut the door behind them. She walked over and collapsed down onto the ornate leather sofa in her office, and propped her elbow up on the arm of the furniture piece, her hand covering her face. She felt Draco take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, exhaling a heavy sigh.

"What did we get ourselves into?" she asked him several minutes later, breaking the silence.

Draco scoffed. "I have no idea."

Hermione sighed. "That could have been worse."

"Especially since we both know what worse really looks like," he replied. He looked over at Hermione, her head still in her hand, and before he lost his nerve, reached out for her free hand with his. Their joined hands now resting in the middle of the couch, it was enough for Hermione to look over, her head still propped up by a hand but her fingers no longer covering her eyes. "We've survived worse things, Granger."

She couldn't disagree. "I know. They're just stubborn."

"Of course they're stubborn. You're stubborn. I'm stubborn. It might be the one thing the four of us collectively have in common," he dryly remarked. "But we're ever going to change that about each other."

Hermione gave a simple nod. "Probably not." She couldn't help but laugh at everything, shaking her head as she leaned back against the couch. "This is either going to find a way to be surprisingly spectacular or a epic failure. Thank God we have money - our children may need some serious therapy before we set them loose in the real world."

"Well, we can resign ourselves to be pleasantly surprised if it turns out to be surprisingly spectacular," Draco suggested with a slight squeeze of his hand.

She looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. "And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't - at least we're going down together," Draco replied. "But either way - we're in this together."

Hermione nodded, and squeezed his hand back. "We're in this together," she repeated.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six! I hope you enjoy it - because I had a lot of fun writing it!**_

* * *

"Draco! Draco you've finally returned home! Lucius! Lucius! He's home!"

Draco rolled his eyes at his overdramatic mother, standing still for as long as he possibly - which was about ten seconds - so that his mother could fawn over him while fretting about his absence. He had been hiding out in Hermione's flat a few days after the public announcement, but decided that he would come home today, face his parents, and then return to her flat to continue hiding. She said it was all right, and had even taken up sleeping in the guest room after the first night on the couch.

"Look Lucius!" Narcissa exclaimed as Lucius entered the foyer of the house, his cane clicking against the hardwood floor. "Draco's home!"

"He's not a missing child, Cissy. Enough with the shouting," Lucius drawled. "Enjoy your little break?"

He stared at his father and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "You know I didn't have a choice."

"You had a choice, Draco. Everyone has a choice."

"Funny, I don't remember being given a choice when you jinxed my arm against the table so the Dark Lord could brand me as his _property_," Draco spat.

Lucius's features remained stoic. "You make a fair point."

"No shit."

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Do not speak to your father like that!"

"I'll do what I want, Mother," he replied. "Anyway, I've just come here to pack my things. I'm going to stay in Granger's flat, and we're going to start looking at houses soon."

Frowning, Lucius walked a bit closer. "You should be moving into Malfoy Manor. It's tradition."

"Yeah, well, tradition kind of got tossed out the window a week ago, now didn't it?"

"Draco - you will live in this Manor. This is your rightful home."

"I'm not going to force Granger to live in the same place she was brutally tortured in," Draco argued.

Lucius scoffed. "I'd hardly call classify her torture as brutal."

"And that response - right there - is exactly why we aren't living in this house!" Draco snapped, blowing past his parents and leaping up the front staircase, three stairs at a time, slamming the door to his bedroom the moment he stepped inside.

He didn't want to admit it - but Hermione was definitely right about them not living here. Hell - he only lived here because with his now excommunicated sentence, it was convenient - despite having to deal with his father. Living in Hermione's flat the past few days made Draco realize that he'd rather row incessantly with her all day over anything than live in a house that consistently made him feel as if he were on the cusp of suffocating. He couldn't even go into that blasted drawing room - not after what he witnessed that day. Aunt Bella's wand attempting to curse the life out of Hermione, her shrieks bouncing erratically off the walls as if they were trying to help her find a way to escape his crazy aunt's wrath. When his nightmares would come from the war - they were always of that day - Hermione screaming and withering in pain as she somehow fought against that cruciatus curse over and over again. No one should have survived that sort of torture with their sanity in tact.

Draco pulled out his old Hogwarts trunk and began ordering his belongings into it with several flicks of his wand. Having the full range of his magic back was like reuniting with an old friend. By the time his entire room was packed, he found his mother standing in the doorway, with a sad sort of smile on her face.

"Mother, please don't be upset," Draco said, his tone always a bit gentler when it was just him and her.

"I'm not upset," Narcissa replied. "I told you from the beginning I thought it was a good idea."

"You look sad, Mother."

"Only because you won't be living here anymore," she quietly said. "Though I understand. I wouldn't want to live here either if I was Miss Granger. In fact…I've only been able to tolerate it as long as I have because you've been here." She looked down at her fingernails and sighed. "Promise me you'll visit? And with Miss Granger? I would like to get to know her. Truly."

Draco smiled, and walked over to his mother, pulling her into a hug. She was the only person in his life he ever willingly showed any outward emotion towards without any complaint. "I'll work on getting Granger here," he promised his mother as he kissed her cheek. "And you'll always be welcome wherever we wind up." Grabbing his trunk, he made his way to the fireplace. "Mother?"

"Yes darling?"

"Father didn't have his wand."

Narcissa looked confused. "Of course he doesn't."

He sighed. "Granger…when she worked out our arrangements with the Minister, one of the conditions was that Father could have his sentence ended, his wand back, with a binding agreement that he does not use his wand against us, you, or our future children. I thought the Minister would have told him this."

"I know he went to rant and rave at the man the other day," Narcissa said, a hand pressed to her cheek. "I'll have to ask him. And it was her idea?"

Draco nodded. "She's insufferable at times, but she does have a good heart. She's much more forgiving than I could ever be."

Smiling, Narcissa moved her hands, holding them politely in front of her. "Most women are, Draco."

"Yes, well, considering you're still married to Father, I guess I have to believe it."

* * *

Hermione sat on her couch, coffee mug in one hand while her other hand kept her head propped up as she leaned against the arm. She had a terrible migraine after getting subpar sleep last night, and was not in the mood for the two men sitting across from her, clearly still distraught from the events earlier in the week. "Guys, please," she begged. "Nothing you can say or do will change my mind."

"You're clearly not happy about it though!" Ron exclaimed. "You haven't even been at work all week!"

"Kingsley is letting me work from home until the excitement wears down," Hermione replied. "And speaking of work - _you two _should be there."

Ron puffed his chest out a bit. "We have the day off."

"Lucky me."

Harry laughed. "You sounded like Malfoy just then. Sarcasm rubbing off?"

"Or my migraine medicine hasn't kicked in," she countered. Taking a big gulp of her coffee, she set it on the end table next to her and looked right at them. "I get it. You're my best friends. I get that you don't like this. But not accepting it doesn't make this any easier on me. I've made my choice and Draco made his."

"But we can -"

"We can do what, Ron?" Hermione snapped. "What is your plan? The Ministry wants high profile faces and apparently we're the only two unmarried people of the bunch. Harry's married to Ginny and no offense Harry, but I would never want to marry you."

Harry laughed. "No offense taken, Hermione. You're too…sisterly for me."

Hermione gave Harry a thankful look before snapping a glare at Ron. "And you - what in the hell do you think you can do? You're married to Susan. You _love_ Susan. So what are you going to do? Divorce Susan and propose to me?"

Ron's cheeks blushed the shade of his hair. "I…uh…no. I wouldn't divorce Susan. I love her."

She dropped her defensive shoulders and sighed. "I know you do."

"I mean, I love you too, but -"

"You don't have to explain," Hermione replied. "Because no offense…I wouldn't want to marry you either, Ron. We tried dating. It didn't work."

Ron frowned, standing up and leaning towards her, waving a finger back and forth. "So if we - you and I - couldn't make it work - two best friends - how do you expect it to work with Malfoy of all people."

Hermione shrugged, closed her eyes, and sighed. "Look - divination was never my best skill. I can't foresee what will happen an hour from now, let alone years." She opened her eyes and looked at her best friends. "All I can ask is that you stop bothering me about this. Stop scowling at him when he's near me, if you don't have anything nice to say then don't say it, and somehow, we'll make the best of what we have. It's what we've always done." She stood up from the couch, dug the exhaustion from her eyes with the palms of her hands, and heavily exhaled. "I don't want to lose the two of you as friends - so don't make me pick."

The three friends found themselves at a stalemate for several moments, before Harry ultimately stood up and walked over to her. He gave her a hug almost as big as the ones she passed out, and kissed her forehead let go. "Just…you know…tell me if you ever need me, ok?" he made her promise. "I'll back whatever decision you make."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "That's all I ask."

Harry looked over at Ron as he stood by Hermione. "Ron?"

"I don't like him, Hermione. I'm sorry," Ron flatly replied.

"I'm not asking you to like him," Hermione argued. "I'm asking you to be an adult, and to tolerate him."

Ron groused. "I hate his family. I hate what they did to you."

"Because I suddenly condone it?" she asked incredulously. "Draco was a child, just like us, fighting a war he didn't want to be a part of."

"Picked the wrong side of it though, didn't he?" Ron spat.

"To protect his mother!" Hermione cried. "Think of all the things you would do to protect your mother, Ron! And when you have that list that wraps around Diagon Alley a thousand times, come back to me and try to have this exact conversation again." Her head was throbbing from her shouting, as her fingers moved to press against her temples. "Look - I'm tired. I'm tired, I don't feel good, and I would like to be left alone. Please."

Harry nodded, giving his friend a one armed hug before jerking a head at Ron. "Let's go."

"Fine," Ron snapped. He stormed off towards the floo, grabbing a handful of powder and disappearing back to the Ministry without saying another word.

Hermione sighed, and dropped back down on the couch. "Please don't bring him here with you anymore," she wearily asked Harry. "Not if he's going to be like that."

"I won't," Harry promised. "And I'll talk to him."

"It's not going to work."

"Well…that's what Ginny's for then."

Hermione almost laughed at the threat. "I suppose you could give that a try. What does she say?"

"Honestly…she's what made me change my mind," Harry confessed. "Ginny thinks that Draco, well, despite being a prat, will be good for - "

A loud whoosh interrupted them, and a few moments later, Draco appeared, whipping his wand around to remove the soot. "Granger! Where should I put my…Potter."

Harry gave him a nod. "Malfoy. How are you?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "Are you asking because you care?"

"I'm trying to," Harry replied. "For Hermione's sake."

He took one look at Hermione, who looked like she could fall asleep at any moment, and frowned. "You alright?"

"I didn't sleep," she informed him.

"Why?"

Hermione sighed. "I haven't been sleeping well. It comes and goes in spells."

Harry looked at Draco. "If she'd take her sleeping draughts like her Healer tells her to, she wouldn't get her headaches." He extended a hand towards Draco, and while it took a few seconds, Draco responded, the two of them exchanging one firm handshake. "Ginny would love for the two of you to come over for dinner tomorrow."

"Really?" Draco asked.

"Really. Hermione's my sister, my wife's best friend." Harry explained. "I wasn't thrilled when I heard about this on Monday, but for Hermione's sake, I'm willing to be civil."

"Civil," Draco repeated. "Right. Well, I'm sure we can both figure that out."

"Let's hope," Harry replied with a smirk. He looked back at Hermione. "We'll see you tomorrow then?"

She nodded. "Thank you, Harry."

"No thanks necessary," he replied.

Draco stood in the same spot he'd been in, waiting for the sound of the floo to signal that they were alone. "Hey."

Hermione gave him a weak smile as she reached for her coffee. "Hey."

"Headaches?"

"He exaggerates."

"You sure about that?" Draco asked. "Because you've…well…looked better."

She wanted to snap a sarcastic remark to him about commenting on a woman's looks but she couldn't - because she knew he was right. It was almost eleven and Hermione was still in her pajamas. "I just need a nap."

He wasn't sure what made him shed his shoes. Maybe it was the sight of her, looking disheveled and clearly upset at whatever it was he walked in on earlier. He assumed based on the two coffee cups on the table that Weasley had been here, but left before Potter. Sitting down on the other end of the couch, he waved her towards him. "Come here."

Hermione laughed. "Excuse me?"

He scowled. "Will you just do what I say? Humor me, Granger. Please."

She shifted closer. "And where, exactly, do you want me to be?"

Draco kicked his legs up on the cushions and made sure he was comfortably propped up against the arm of the couch. He gave his chest a pat.

"You want to cuddle?"

"It's what dating people do, right?"

"Um…yes…but -"

"Just try it," Draco said. "Remember? Fake it 'til we make it?"

"And this is what you'd do if I were really your girlfriend?"

"Fiancée, and yes."

"Girlfriend, because there's no ring, and you really like to cuddle?"

Draco groaned. "Fiancée, because the Minister says so, and oddly enough, yes. I do like feeling comfort, and giving comfort to those I care about so will you just stop talking and come here!"

"Fine!" she exclaimed, and crawled towards him so that she was lying next to him, resting on her side with her head on his chest. As it was too awkward to just let her arms lay at her sides, she wrapped them around him and dropped one of her legs in between his. "Better?"

"Much," Draco replied with a bit of satisfaction. He pulled her hair out of the messy bun it had been tired up in and, in his own opinion, bravely maneuvered his fingers through her brown curls until they found her scalp. "Now, close your eyes."

She was about to call him bossy, but Hermione was afraid that if she opened her mouth, all he'd hear was a moan of…well…she wasn't sure what, but it wasn't negative as his fingers felt like magic. She closed her eyes and let her body relax against him, and as she relaxed, Hermione could feel that Draco was doing the same. "Who taught you how to do this?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Well, Pansy, actually," Draco quietly confessed. "When we were in school, right when everything was getting bad, she used to let me lay my head in her lap, and well, she'd do this." He missed Pansy. Her parents were never in as deep with Voldemort like his parents, and after the war their family left for Greece, away from the nonsense. They used to write to each other often, but as Pansy began to date and have a life of her own, those letters lost their frequency, and now they wrote to each other on birthdays and holidays. "She's a bit of a snot," he said with a light laugh. "But she was my friend."

Hermione subtly nodded. "Like Ron…only he's a git…and even if it never…looks like it, I know it comes from a good place."

"That's Pansy," Draco agreed. "Feeling better?"

"Yes," she admitted. "You have a gift…and you should expect me to use it often."

He smiled, though she couldn't see it. "I'm sure I can manage that."

Hermione was fast asleep a few minutes later, and Draco felt like he'd accomplished the impossible - getting her to relax. Of course, he wasn't ever one for much relaxing either. He was always stressed out or worried about something. Growing up with Death Eaters constantly gathering in your house will do that to a person, he ultimately decided, along with an impossible to please father. His fingers continued to play with her hair as he felt her shoulders, hips, and head snuggle closer to him as she lightly snored.

Watching her sleep, Draco felt…funny. 'Faking it' when it came to liking Hermione Granger was not nearly as hard as he thought it would be. Lying there, enjoying the fact that she was able to relax and be comfortable this close to him, he wondered if ever truly hated her to begin with. He wondered how often she let others take care of her, knowing that she was always thinking about everyone else but herself. Draco assumed it was probably never, thinking back to her and Potter's exchange over something a small as taking a sleeping draught.

He laid there for a few hours, thinking about anything and everything that came into his head. Marrying Hermione Granger gave him a do-over in a sense. It gave him the opportunity to show everyone that there was more to him than the past he felt like he'd never crawl out from under in the eyes of the Wizarding world.

It gave him the opportunity to be ordinary. His father always said that ordinary people were dull, and that Malfoys were anything but ordinary. He was right - Malfoys were definitely not ordinary, but they weren't extraordinary either.

He wanted to be ordinary.

Hermione stirred, her nose buried into his chest as she sharply inhaled. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice light, like a small child.

"It's almost three," Draco said, glancing down at his wristwatch.

"Oh my God!" Hermione exclaimed with a groan. "I'm so sorry - you must be starving and I -"

He clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing as she was still talking. "Granger - you're fine. I'm not starving. You were tired, and obviously needed the sleep."

Hermione pried his hand from her mouth and looked at him. There wasn't an ounce of resentment, or placating tones in his voice. "Well…thanks, I guess then."

"Did you sleep alright?"

"Honestly?"

Draco nodded.

"I don't remember the last time I slept like that without a potion," she confessed, laying back down so that she didn't have to look him in the eyes while he processed her admission. "So thank you."

Sighing, he reached for the hand she had resting on his chest next to her face and gave it a squeeze. "So, I was thinking about things while you were snoozing away…"

"Things?"

"You know…us."

"Oh," Hermione squeaked.

"I'm not proud of my past," he told her, his hand still holding hers. "I wish I could erase it, but I can't. But I can detach myself from it."

She craned her neck, still resting against him but looking up at him. "Detach?"

"Let's be ordinary," he said, almost pleading. "Let's live in Muggle London, in a neighborhood, and just blend in."

Hermione knew she couldn't have heard him correctly. Prying herself away, she sat up as he moved, making room as his legs were now in her lap. "You want to live surrounded by Muggles?"

"Think about it," Draco said. "The Ministry is making us do this. But if we live in a completely Muggle neighborhood…their access is limited. Photographers and busybodies won't be able to pry into anything more than what sort of broom polish I buy in Diagon Alley, or which flavor of ice cream you prefer at Fortesque's."

He was dead serious, and Hermione wasn't sure if she should kiss him or have him admitted to St. Mungo's for a psychiatric evaluation. "Draco, I can't…I can't ask you to live somewhere that you'll feel completely uncomfortable."

"Who says I'll be uncomfortable?" Draco countered. "I survived five years with minimal magic - and other than being irritated that I couldn't use the full range of magic - it wasn't all that terrible."

"But you like to fly a broom."

"That's what concealment charms are for."

"Draco -"

"Our children can be normal," he added for good measure. "They can exist without expectations."

Hermione smiled at the fact that he'd thought about their future children. "Expectations will come when they get to Hogwarts."

"We don't have to send them there," he countered.

"You'd want your children to go to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

He frowned. "Well, not really, but if we raise them the way you were raised, they can be enigmas…like Potter was. No one knew him when he arrived. They just knew of him. I'd rather our children not be known so they can be liked and make friends because of who they are, and not where they come from."

Hermione smiled. "Maybe I shouldn't leave you to your thoughts for so long in the future."

"I'm being completely serious."

"I know you are," she quickly added. She gave his legs a pat, waiting for them to move so she could stand up. Stretching her arms up over her head, she moved and stood right in front of Draco. "This is what you want?"

He nodded without hesitation. "I want to be ordinary, Hermione."

She bent down enough to grab his hands, pulling him up off the couch so that they were standing toe to toe. "There's nothing ordinary about you, Draco," Hermione told him, still holding his hands. "But if you want to live an ordinary life…well…then lets do it." Standing up on her tiptoes, she barely brushed her lips against his.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"

She shrugged. "I…don't know. I just felt like doing it."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7 is up! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/hit the favorite/follow button! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!**_

* * *

Later that afternoon, the two of them walked to the market nearby to pick up some groceries and some of the free house for same pamphlets that were always sitting in the racks by the entrance. Food and beverages procured, Draco carried the two sacks of groceries while Hermione carried the stack of newsprint booklets back to the apartment, so they could begin their search. Each of them took a booklet and a red pen - Draco fascinated at the idea of a writing utensil that was self-inking without the mess - and began to mark up what they liked and didn't like about the houses. Hermione even dug out an old map she had of the city and spread it out on the table in front of them, so Draco could see where the neighborhoods were located for the houses he liked.

"Is money an object for you?" Draco asked as he started to look at the pictures of the houses in the booklet.

She shrugged. "I assume between the two of us, we're probably well enough off financially to find a comfortable house. Do you plan on getting a job?"

He wasn't sure. The thought of working in the Wizarding world had no real appeal to him at the moment. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I don't even know what I would do."

"You could work in the Ministry," Hermione suggested.

Draco frowned. "And have people stare at me all day? No thank you."

"Professional Quidditch player?"

He laughed. "I'm good, Granger, but not that good."

Hermione got up from her chair and went into the kitchen, returning with two stemless glasses and a bottle of red wine. Popping the cork, she poured herself a glass and handed the bottle to Draco, who followed suit. "Well, I guess if you don't need to work from a financial standpoint, there's no sense in stressing out over finding a job just yet."

"I like potions. Brewing them, experimenting and making new ones," Draco all but blurted out of the blue as he drew an X through one of the houses because by the physical description, it was smaller than Hermione's flat. "I would like to do something with that if I could."

"They're always looking for potions researchers at St. Mungo's," Hermione casually remarked, circling a house to come back to. "Look at this one."

Draco leaned over and glanced at the house Hermione was pointing to. It was a Victorian home, with a yellowed cobblestoned brick all along the outside. The house boasted five bedrooms, a beautiful conservatory that had windows to open up in the summer time, a large kitchen, backyard, and a garage for a car. It was in a small neighborhood with houses somewhat close to each other, but not on top of each other, which Hermione also liked. "There's practically a fireplace in every main room," she pointed out. "Which would be nice to have in the winter so we can just heat whatever rooms we're using."

"Definitely," Draco agreed. "And this one right here would be perfect for the floo network," he added, pointing to one of the smaller rooms - according to the write up. "It would be a good place for those sorts of entrances."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I can call and see if we can set up a time to look at it tomorrow. By the looks of the address, it can't be more than a twenty-minute drive out of the city. It looks like it's only about five miles away from my parents."

"Is that ok?"

"To live near my parents?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "Of course it is. I adore my parents." Right as she said it, however, she felt bad, realizing that she shouldn't have been so flippant with her response. His parents weren't anything like hers. She got up to pull the cordless phone off the wall, when it suddenly started to right. "Speaking of," she said with a laugh, glancing at the caller ID. "Hello Mum!"

Draco watched as she gracefully walked over, snatched her glass of wine, and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the countertop as if that's where she always stood to have a conversation with her mother. She was laughing and smiling, sipping intermittently between words. It was almost like watching another person. Growing up, she spoke when she had answers, or when she was being bossy, but watching her have a real conversation with someone…she was just so different. Relaxed. Laughing. Gesturing with the hand that held the wine glass, even though it was obvious her mother couldn't see. Her demeanor didn't change either as he could tell that her mother had clearly given the phone to her father.

He wondered what it would be like, having a casual conversation like that with his parents. Asking them how their day was, what plans they had for the week, and just speaking of any random topic that came to mind. Any time he spoke with his mother, it was to either reassure her or to sit quietly and pretend he was really taking whatever she was saying with more than a grain of salt. His father - if it wasn't blunt, one-word responses, they were sharp snapping sentences, starting and ending conversations in one breath.

Soon, she was agreeing to things. Scheduling something. Sounded like for Sunday afternoon. He heard her say good bye, telling her father she loved him and to tell her mother the same thing. He couldn't remember the last time he said that to either of his parents.

"Draco?"

He looked back over at her as she hung up the phone on the wall. "Yes?"

"My parents invited us over to their house for a late lunch on Sunday," Hermione replied. "You don't have to go if you don't want to, but they said you were more than welcome to come."

He made a face. "Do they know who I am?"

"Yes, Draco, they know who you are," she said as she refilled her glass.

"And…what I've done?"

Hermione dropped her shoulders as she sat down. "Draco…my parents…they don't really dwell on the past. My father might give you the standard 'hurt my daughter and I'll hurt you' speech, but his bark is definitely worse than his bite. He can hardly kill a fly."

"Granger…"

"No, really - my mum will drill them with a swatter but Dad always lets them…and other bugs he finds. Mum kills them - Dad saves them," Hermione said with a laugh. "But really, Draco. He'll give you a stern talk, you'll pretend to be scared and say the standard 'I'll never do anything to hurt your daughter,' and then he'll clap you on the shoulder and say 'good talk,' and ask my mother if whatever she's cooking is ready."

Draco leaned back in the chair. "I take it you've seen this before."

"With Ron," Hermione replied. "Poor guy…he was so nervous to meet my dad. Stuttered every word for the first five seconds before sucking in a deep breath and exhaling while rambling every word he could think of to prove how much he loved me."

"Why didn't you two work, anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, her hand swaying gently as the wine swirled around the glass. "We loved each other, just not enough to do what the other wanted to make them happy. He wanted an instant family. I wanted a career first. I love him. Always will. But we were always too different." She took a longer sip of her wine and sighed. "Sometimes…sometimes I think that the anticipation of dating, and the hoping that it would happen someday…I don't know. I guess in the end we loved the idea of being with each other more than the actual product itself." She ruefully laughed and picked up the booklet with the house she circled. "I'm actually surprised Ron and Susan haven't announced a pregnancy yet. They've been married four months now."

"Maybe he can't get the job done," Draco lightly teased.

"Doubtful," Hermione replied. "If there's one thing that the Weasley family is good at, it's multiplying. Molly and Arthur love it too. They're such wonderful grandparents." She took another drink and laughed. "And that's another reason why you shouldn't fear my parents - they want grandchildren."

Draco paled at her words, and felt himself tense up.

Hermione noticed his uneasiness and sat up. "Draco I was just kid -"

He shook his head quickly and stood up. "You aren't kidding though. We're going to have to have children."

"Draco…you knew this. We talked about children earlier today when you said you wanted to be ordin-"

"I know what I said!" Draco exclaimed. "I just…I mean…damn it!" He raked his hands through his hair and clenched the back of it. "I don't know what's happening. I don't understand."

Hermione was terribly confused. "Don't understand what?"

"You! Your parents! Why wouldn't they hate me! Why would they ever want me to be with you! How could they love children that are half mine after everything I've done!"

She put her wine down and watched him as he began to pace, his breathing quick and shallow. Hermione let him go at it for a minute or two, figuring if he got some of it out of his system, he wouldn't jump out of his skin when she finally approached him. Gathering her bravery, she stood up from her chair and walked towards him, her hand extending outward to touch his arm. When her hand hit his sleeve, she was shocked when she felt his hand grab her wrist. "Draco," she spoke quietly. "Draco look at me."

His gaze was fixed on the floor. "I don't deserve forgiveness."

"Everyone deserves forgiveness," Hermione argued. "What matters is what you _do_ with the forgiveness." When she couldn't get any sort of verbal response from him, just his hand clenching tighter around her wrist, she walked closer and carefully pried her locked wrist free. "Look at me."

"No."

"Look at me, Draco," she demanded. When he didn't listen, she grabbed his chin with her thumb and forefinger and snapped his jaw upright. "_Everyone_ deserves forgiveness."

His pale cheeks were red as he furiously blinked his eyes away. "I'm not a good person, Hermione."

"You used to be an abhorrent person," she said with a laugh. "But now you're this person…that doesn't call me awful names, and is willing to be trapped against a couch for hours so that I can sleep. We haven't even really fought since the announcement, and we've practically been holed up in this flat except for our adventure to the market." She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, looking right at him. "And I…I kissed you earlier today. I don't know why I did it…I just did. And I don't regret it. And you want to know what else?"

"What?" he asked, slightly hoarse.

"I don't kiss abhorrent men," Hermione whispered. "And if you think that's an opening to make a crack at Ron, you should think twice before making it."

She watched his body slowly lost its stiff stance, and followed him as he walked backwards to lean up against the wall. "We haven't fought in a few days," Draco agreed with a sigh. He dragged a hand through his hair again and sighed once more. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to panic just then."

Hermione nodded. "It's alright. I have my own fair share of freak outs I'm sure you'll be witnessing."

He let out a wry laugh. "That's fair."

"Definitely," she quietly replied.

The remainder of the evening wasn't nearly as relaxed as it had been earlier that day, but Hermione supposed she should have expected as much. The two of them, once they had a decent list of houses to call a relator friend of Hermione's parents to try and look at tomorrow, retreated to the couch for the remainder of the evening. They sat on opposite ends for a few hours, watching the news before switching to an old black and white film playing on one of the public stations.

By the time the credits were running, she decided to do something drastic. Standing up she clicked the off button on the telly remote and placed it in the basket on the coffee table. "Come on."

Draco stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. "Excuse me?"

"Come on," she repeated. "We're both tired. We may as well go to bed."

"You say that like we share a bedroom," he asked as he finished his fourth glass of wine.

"Well I thought we might try it tonight," Hermione said as confidently as she could, as she also had a fair bit of wine in her. "You know…just sleeping of course."

Choking as he tried to swallow, it took him a few seconds to regain his composure. "You want to what?"

Her cheeks were burning red at this point. Maybe she'd misread everything earlier. "I just…you know…earlier today…we slept on the couch together and I slept well so I thought…but never mind, of course. I'll just -"

He leaned forward and caught her wrist before she could run off. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Your face is red."

"Maybe I'm just warm. It's hot in here."

"It's like an ice cave in this flat," he countered in a teasing tone. Standing up, he moved his hand so that it was now holding her hand, pulling her towards the hallway. "You just caught me off guard, is all," he confessed as he allowed her to walk into her bedroom at first.

Hermione nodded, her cheeks still flushed. "Do you…do you need your pajamas?"

"I just sleep in the undershirt and boxers I'm currently wearing," Draco replied.

"I see," she said, wondering if he heard her quick exhale. She was terrified suddenly that she slept naked. "I'm just…going to go in here and change," she said, pointing to the private bath in her room. Disappearing without another word, she hastily grabbed some pajamas out of a drawer along the way and shut the door as quick as she could. _You're bloody mental_, she told herself as she peeled away the first real outfit she'd worn in days, tossing them into the hamper in her walk-in closet. She couldn't believe she had the audacity to invite him into her room.

Or, she did believe it, because even if it killed her to admit it, she enjoyed sleeping with him. It reminded her how much she missed the sheer comfort that came from sleeping with someone. Hermione slipped into a pair of thin, pink pants with white pinstripes about them, and a matching pink tank top. Gathering all of her hair back, she tied it up towards the top of her head in a messy bun and quickly washed her face before walking back into her bedroom.

"I…don't know which side you sleep on," Draco said to her as he stood at the foot of her bed.

"On the left," Hermione said. "Unless you sleep on the left."

"I can sleep wherever," Draco replied.

"Is that your way of saying you sleep on the left?"

"Honestly?"

Hermione nodded.

"I've never just slept in a bed with a woman…like at night. I'm more of a tumble into bed and then leave as they fall asleep," he confessed, his eyes taking a sudden interest in her floor.

"Ah," Hermione replied. She walked over to her side of the bed and turned down the covers so she could crawl in. "So the rumors aren't true? You and Pansy never -"

"Oh we did," Draco said. "But she never stayed. And if we cuddled, it was out in the common room when everyone else was mindlessly wandering about."

Hermione frowned as she slid her legs under the blankets. Draco followed suit, climbing in on the other side. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you just do that sort of thing in your room, instead of the common room?"

He shrugged. "Pansy gets ideas…quickly. I didn't want her to think I was too serious."

She nodded. Slouching down in the bed, Hermione lay flat on her back, turning her head to look at him. "Draco?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"Why didn't you want her to think you were too serious?"

Draco sighed. "Because I…I never thought I'd live to see the end of it. Pansy…she was one of my best friends. She has her flaws of course, yes, but she cared for me. More than anyone else ever seemed to at that time."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Would you have preferred to be paired with her?"

He shook his head. "I love the girl, but she would make drive me mental."

"And I won't?"

"You're different," Draco reflexively replied, staring up at the ceiling.

She rolled onto her side, her arms hugging her pillow as she stared at him. "You used to hate that about me, you know."

He nodded, still staring at the ceiling. "And now it seems to be the thing I like most about you."


End file.
